


A Good Pet

by Lyssandra_Med



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bellamione Cult War, Blackcest (Harry Potter), Creature Andromeda Black Tonks, Creature Fic, Creature Hermione Granger, Creature Narcissa Black Malfoy, Creature Nymphadora Tonks, Dark Hermione Granger, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, Hermione Granger Has a Penis, Hermione Granger Scores a Black Family Grand Slam, Hermione Granger Scores a Black Sister Hat Trick, Incest, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nymphadora Tonks Lives, Smut, Team Furbae, Werewolf Andromeda Black Tonks, Werewolf Hermione Granger, Werewolf Narcissa Black Malfoy, Werewolf Nymphadora Tonks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2020-12-22 09:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 24,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21073610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: Bellatrix takes good care of her toys, even when they're bleeding and growing fur where they ought not to.





	1. Lost

Slamming doors heralded her arrival; swift, surefooted, even as a keel and broken through and through.

_ “What did you do!?” _

The Black Witch pushed forward with all the tender care of a hurricane given form, her wand throwing the ragged beast of a man to his knees before he could even formulate an answer.

“You mangy _ fucking _ mutt, what the hell did you do to my toy!? _ You broke her!” _

The spell - _ red _ \- was the symbol she was most feared by, most known by, and she demonstrated the surety of her cast until pain and the absence of anything else were all that he had left.

His terror - _ absolute _ \- would allow him no quarter, no mercy.

Her anger - _ overpowering _ \- would demand nothing less than his complete and utter obliteration, all carried out with the tacit approval of their Master.

And then death; she had been given leave for that as well.

Her breath hitched as he writhed and begged, her eyes firmly on the past, firmly on the bite mark that bled and bled. It hadn’t been there before - _ when she carved her name into her back _ \- and that left just one, just _ him. _

Yes, his death was a surety at this point.

But not before humiliation; not until she was surrounded by their peers and Master, each and every set of eyes burrowing beneath his skin as he went to meet whatever heathen Gods he called to.

“You know what the Muggles do Greyback,” she pierced his chin with the force of her grip and stabbed her wand so far up the worried muscles of his neck that words were beyond him, “You know what they do when a rabid dog gets loose? When a mutt tastes blood?”

Fear lit him into a shining crescendo in the middle of her otherwise drab rooms, his body cold and broken, tarnished and cracked. He pissed himself before the first syllable left her lips - _ tail securely between his legs _\- a whimper in the air.

The beast was dead - _ All Hail the Queen _-, and mount his head for all to learn from.

\---

Her pretty Pet was more than that now; was more than just human - _ meat _ \- with scared eyes and a shivering form that hitched and rippled from the onslaught of Her curses. And the worst part of it all? She wasn’t suffering from a pain that _ She’d _ caused.

Best she fix that before it made too much of a lenient impression.

A _ Divesto _ stripped the ragged cloth from her body, a _ Scourgify _ roughed away at the blood and grit, _ Episkey _ healed the bite until it left a - _ beautiful _ \- silver scar all along her neck; vicious teeth, vicious fangs, forever embossed upon her flesh. She roughly dragged her from the dungeon to the light, a shack along the edges of the property more than enough for Mud like her. It had after all been used for elves and tools and dirt at some point long passed into memory.

Something it could now resume, just under the boots of a better master.

_ Clean it all out; _ let nothing remain but floorboards and walls, grimy windows and a steel post in the center.

_ Chain her up; _ silver links and collar of course, she had an image to maintain.

And then it was done.

“Puppy, puppy, puppy,” she cooed with false compassion and scratched the wolf-witch into rousing from her impromptu slumber. Soon enough a head was cradled in her lap while long nails ran bright trails along cold flesh, “Little Mudpup, that _ beast _ tried to take you away from me, but you’re _ mine,” _ she growled the last, heavy and full of possession, a hand wrapping up into tawny hair to wring a whimper of fear - _ pleasure _\- from low in her throat.

“You’ll stay, I’ll train you, yes, yes, _ yes, _ I’ll make you useful little Mudpup, you’ll see,” soft fingers ran lower across trembling muscles until they were able to dip between legs and rub at soft - _ hot _ \- flesh, “Carrot and stick Pet, we’ll see how well you learn.”

\---

"Heel," she heeled. 

"Up," she stood. 

“Bite,” she tore, her teeth flat and gnashing shut with extra effort - _ no fangs, not yet, not yet _\- exertion pouring through her body as she pulled her way through gristle and flesh.

She was a good girl, she did as she was commanded, she was _ Hers _ alone; those beautiful dark eyes looking down at her with a smile - _ so twisted, always twisted _ \- that filled her to the brim. Training was hard; things were different, smelled different, _ she _ was different.

But even with all that different she still failed from time to time.

"Bad girl," the whip again, "Bad Pet," a lash or her palm. 

But when she listened right? When she did as she was told? When her Mistress had her kneel to worship, her tongue dragging out across overheated flesh… It was glorious.

\---

The first change was a sudden thing that gripped her fully with heat and exhaustion until she was filled from top to bottom with a nervous energy that had her twitching and grasping at her unclean flesh. The Silver Sun beat down upon her with its incessant call until the chains around her neck tightened and compressed painfully against her neck. Her Mistress was there though - _ here for her and her alone _-, remaining by her side to wipe dirty cloth against her sweat marked skin, soothing the flush with hands that dug nails through her scalp to calm the foreign itch.

The fur was tawny as she expected but the eyes, her eyes… Where once was brown and soft they now were hard and yellow, twin pits of honey given over to venom.

When she stood she was hunched, long legs on a longer body and all so shiny and new. Her Mistress moved them with a twist, magic of some sort pulling her along until there was light - _ there were screams _\- and noise.

“Hunt.”

Her eyes blew out into discs of black.

“Kill.”

Her tongue lolled out between a maw filled with sharp - _ too sharp _\- teeth.

“Eat,” said with finality as the chain was snapped and collar loosed.

She was free, _ free at last, _ running and climbing, sprinting and fighting.

They all fought back against her with as much vigor as they could but in the end it was no match for speed and strength and hide too strong to yield to such puny sticks of wood. Black hair, green eyes, all slick and coated red until she could taste the sweetness running rivulets down his body. 

She ate until she was near to bursting - _ the first full meal in nearly four months _ \- while her Mistress crowed sweet nothings into her ears and laughed with a bark that was more familiar than her own - _ ecstatic, electric _-, for she had done well that night.

\---

Waking up was hard work for a body so stiff and sore that cramps were more of a constant than an even breath. Soft hands worked their way through her hair, around her neck and cheek, pulling her close to sit atop a lap clad in black and silk.

“Good Girl,” hands pet at her until she was mewling and content with distraction

“Good Pet,” fingers dipped down between her legs, two fingers rubbing soft patterns against her overheated core, body aching for more contact.

She was happy, so long as her Mistress was happy.

\---

When Hermione finally came to from beneath the fuzz and warmth that had blanketed her mind for all these months, her new life came as a shock to her. Memories came flooding back, real feelings came with them, her instincts and training butting heads with all the knowledge that she possessed. 

She had done terrible things, many horrid atrocities against anyone and everyone that the Black Witch set her up against, but even though she hadn’t held the chain it had still been _ her _ the entire time. She may have had a cracked shard of glass for a consciousness but it had still been her hands - _ claws _ \- and her teeth - _ fangs _ \- that did the work.

And her body had received that pleasure, basked beneath the caresses of her rewards, sidled up and basked beneath the comfort of the Witch’s darkness.

She wasn’t sure why she had been given this momentary reprieve - _ Would it even last? _ \- but there had to have been a reason. Though with her like it might have just been _ ‘Why not?’, _ maybe the Witch just wanted to see if she would remain conflicted, if she would gouge out her own eyes rather than deal with the monster she had become.

A Pet to an even darker creature; all the while held on by a leash, but a terror all the same.

If that was what she and the others had expected then surely they were all disappointed at the lack of self-harm or panicking. Pragmatism and logic had always been her friends, and rationalization a near second nature. There were simply no options - _ no death _\- left open to her; she would be killed on sight by the Resistance, the Muggle world was no place for a Wolf, and no family or friends remained to comfort or assist her.

And if she were truly honest, getting warm scratches at that one spot behind her left ear was a hell of a lot more of a convincing argument to remain than she would ever admit aloud.

Regardless of the reasoning the control was still removed, her body and mind free for the time being. She leaned down and scooped up a gray robe to pull tightly over her body - _ hard and muscled and lean _\- and cinched it with a green sash passed off by hand from the Witch herself. Long tawny hair fell in ripples and curls to hang about her waist, the length the perfect amount to let the Witch tug and pull her along. She knelt by her side when the Witch sat at a table filled with those she had once called foes, their faces looking on with rapturous amazement towards her disposition, all in attendance knowing she was doing this of her own volition rather than at the tether of some spell.

She stayed.

The Witch smiled.

And though all was wrong in the world, in this one instance - _ this one decision _-, all was right.

“Good Pet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


	2. A Terror

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written as a wake up exercise on a Sunday morning, mostly just drabble and thoughts not meant to mean anything.

Teeth gnashed and snapped shut, bones split to reveal marrow when they cracked, heavy claws of black tore at toned skin to reveal the red underneath.

Her body was taller, she was stronger, her muscles ached and pounded as she ran - _ sprinting _ \- through the trees and around fallen lumber.

The endless cackle filled the spaces of her mind, drowned out the beating of her heart, blanketed the hollow portions of her soul, swirling and covering until she was all filled up, spilled out, dribbling down the excess of her thoughts.

Wolf-_Witch. _

Wolf-_Bitch. _

The Black Witch’s Monster-

An heir to death, a sibling to nature grown wicked and daring. Her mind was freed when a Moon like this one rose up above the horizon, her body released from the haze of clouded compassion, all the shackles loosed from around her neck so that she could hunt - _ feed _ \- freely and without worry.

It was a revelation, a prayer, everlasting fealty to her new Goddess-

The act of becoming subservient, the manner in which she grew accustomed to the madness of it all, was less of a shock than it should have been - _ could have been _-, and still she couldn’t find it within herself to care at the rather drastic change. Seven months, seven Moons, twenty-one nights filled with a swirling Bliss that pounded heat out through her veins with all the intensity of nimble fingers bringing her to completion. Twenty one mornings where she fell back into the waking world heavy and compressed beneath the cloying folds and warm grasp of the Black Witch’s hold, her nails digging bright spots into her skin in reminder that she was still alive.

Still breathing in the madness of the end.

\---

Her _ Pet, _ her _ Mudpup, _ her vicious attack dog held at bay by only the thinnest chain of silver; a _ Beast _ that followed her every footstep, everywhere, through meetings and missions or days left lounging and recovering. A constant presence that served as a reminder of the Black Witch’s powers over corruption.

A yellowed pair of eyes, a gently flattened nose, her ears now pointed and long as they twitched in an attempt to swivel. Magic; she was Greyback’s unintended boon, a treasure given from one Alpha (dead to the world) to another (now frightfully alive). A mixture of lupine instability borne on the backs of Human corruption, the Curse much too strong to be held back by mere flesh and a hidden Moon.

Against her initial intuition she found it now a delight to waltz into a room, a space filled with tables of peons and lackeys, the Wolf in her eyes staring them down, tall and impassive. Their heads would turn, eyes reaching for signs of duplicity or deception, treachery in anything and everything that she did, before slowly turning to quiet fear as she began to prowl. The clicking of her claws against marble floors, long scratches etched into hardwood, a hand dragging harshly against the backs of their chairs.

Intimidation all wrapped up beneath a lovely package, heeled by the Dark Witch’s side without a single word being spoken, body lowering until she was down on her knees with back pressed up against Her legs, sometimes between, sometimes occupied, her broadened tongue pulling sweet nectar from between her thighs. It fit; fear dressed up as loving servitude.

Wolf-_Slut. _

Her body curled up into a ball in the center of Her bed, head heavy and limbs achingly stiff after being painted red by the witch’s hand. She had come to crave the sting over time, the harsh pain of it and the soft words that followed as she lay spread out across the sheets. The Dark Witch cared for her in some twisted little way, and now that she had nothing at all to go back to there was only one thing left for her.

_ Move forward; _ no matter what, no matter why, _ live. _

The Others had learned to fear her now, their temperament improving by leaps and bounds over the weeks that followed her Ascension; their eyes small and shifting down to peer at the floor whenever she padded by, or left her Witch’s side. Her toes managed to scrape divets into the ground as she stood behind them and stretched, her body lean and malleable as she stood there breathing ragged pants behind their necks. Most would shiver, suddenly soured with the scent of Fear, the hopelessness of being caught out within a den of Wolves-

But _ some _ were more pig headed than others.

_ Some _ needed a harsher push to fall in line, to show respect.

_ Some _ needed her fangs to ghost across their neck, just above, just enough of a threat, just enough of a taste to see exactly who they were dealing with.

She was Fenrir Greyback’s legacy; a Dark Wolf who had been a Witch, and now found herself a Terror. A Woman who had been Golden, and now found herself tarnished beneath Black.

But still some days were far worse than others; none of her movements quick enough for the Black Witch’s tastes, her teeth not sharp enough to cut cleanly, and on those days her neck would be pulled low with short chain and collar, the whip coming out to play, her legs splayed open and a howl upon her lips. It wasn’t too bad really, her hide had long since toughened up, but those sweet caresses across the lash marks were all worth the considerable pain that it took to get there.

On days that were better than the rest she would be treated as if she were still Human, as though she was more than a simple mutt who had been covered in mud.

Those days would find her sprawled out across the Witch’s bed linens; her body warmed and skin ruddy with affections. She would nudge her nose against the sweet spot of the Witch’s neck, tongue licking and teeth nipping at pearly white skin, her claws raking bright trails of red across her chest. Her tongue, much thicker now and harder to use in the production of her words, was well-equipped to deal with the moisture between her Mistress’s legs, uniquely suited to lap at nectar that was scented with lust and desire.

There was no thought-

No desire to leave or change-

She grew content in this new life, broken and unnatural as it was, feared and loved as she was.

A Woman turned Wolf.

A Tool turned Lover.


	3. Bound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Practice work while I mess with other projects.
> 
> Not edited.

Capture had never been a part of her plans.

The silvered chains that wound themselves across her wrists and ankles were unexpected.

Unanticipated. Wound too tightly, accomplishing nothing more than pain.

The muzzle locked around her snout - _silver and burning against her blackened lips_ \- was Hell.

_ Wrong- _

_ Caged- _

_ Restricted- _

Only_ She _should have held this power over her; only _She _should have the ability -_ the right_ \- to take away every bit of what made her dangerous.

But they had done this. And she had fallen. A mistake she would pay dearly for, an error that she would honour with blood and tar-thick regret sweetened with pain. 

With submission.

Did it matter that it was unintentional? That they came upon her with so much force and sudden movement that she had nowhere to go, nowhere to run, nothing and no way to escape from their clutches?

No.

They had been ready for her. And she had not been prepared for them.

A shame that.

A shame that spread heat across her pale skin, a burn that lifted her hackles until she growled with all she was worth, her body puny and small but no less the Monster that she had been. Trapped. Naked. Alone and panting within her bonds while they hemmed and hawed and questioned just what had gone wrong - _right _\- to leave her there as she was; a Beast, an Alpha, her nose furiously twitching against the ungainly scent of Another and his chosen Mate.

His kin.

Her own, if their words were to be believed. But she had fallen low far before this, and even then they had failed to show themselves as her kin. 

_ They were nothing. _

And yet still they had trumped her, had pulled her kicking and screaming down below the Earth to a small cell, a small window, a place where the sun would never fully reach her, and the Moon would never comfort all her skin-

Trapped.

Their words filled out with strange sounds she had abandoned, pleas and cries for her to return, to think, to remember herself amid all the madness. But she knew who she was, knew what she was, knew every inch of her changed form and howled up at them with righteous anger swirling beneath her chest. 

Who were they to choose this for her?

The Other noticed her cries, her pleas, and even his chosen Mate seemed to suspect the truth-

This_ hurt. _

This was_ wrong. _

She was_ not_ human-

A vile liquid forced down past her lips in an effort to make her safe - _docile_ -, whatever it was that meant in a place and world such as this one. Bitter, dark, scraping down her throat as they held her lips and nose, poison pushing downwards, rushing, settling-

By all the Gods did it burn; a twisting, writhing heat that churned within her gut to send her skin aflame, the touch and caress of the Moon -_ once so soothing, a balm to her harried soul _\- now painful where it landed. The change was swift as ever but filled with _hurt _instead of _pleasure, _filled with _sorrow _instead of _elation. _

The Moon _wanted_ her. 

The Moon _punished_ her.

Her claws dug rivulets against her side, eyes mad, mouth-frothing, the face outside her bars turning at once to a mask of horror and disgust.

_ Good. _

She hoped this disgusted them, turned their stomachs into lead-lined caskets filled with bile and regret.

It certainly hurt her. So why shouldn’t it hurt them?

Gnashing teeth, frenzied movement, she swiped corners of the cell until the hard stone cracked beneath her fingers, shattered against her thrashing, even the bars themselves bending outwards with the force of her attack.

It held.

She didn’t.

Another morning. Another pain. Her body awoken with a rush of fire that proved she was alone without any comfort, her Mistress nowhere to be found. This pain threaded all throughout her abdomen? The pounding headache smashing against her temples, the stretch of limbs that cracked and pulled?

Foreign.

Wrong.

_ It hurt. _

It was no wonder that the Other had been so sick after every Moon, after every night that should have been a release for the creature within, and not another cage for it to bash against. 

No wonder he had been so sickly. 

No wonder her voice had confused it so, as unnatural as it had been back then. 

_ Had he ever truly heard the Call? _

They were meant to be free, they were meant to run, to fight, to use their bodies as they were, recede the weak portion and let a howling monster have control. But that Potion? 

That damned phial filled with liquid that robbed them of their Wild inheritance? 

It stole control, locked both their minds and their hearts, made every bit of the change as excruciating as it could be. It was Hell they were thrust into when that liquid tore away the little bits of comfort that the Beast would have given them. 

All of their gifts, all of their rights, _stolen. _

And they dared to say they were saving her, to say that they were healing her. If they were treating her, they would have let her go or given her an open route back to the surface and ample time to find her Mistress. Instead, they poked and prodded, held her down with chains, clothed her in strange garb she only half-remembered. Pulled at her ears, frowned at her sloping brow and stronger nose, hid in fear when her yellowed eyes fell upon them. 

The last betrayal, last straw, was the Redhead sire pressing her down against the ground while they destroyed her precious claws, filed her sharpened fangs, all to keep her as close to human as they could. 

One month.

One month of pain, degradation, instincts and her Wild stolen from her body and the moorings of her mind. One month of howling until her throat was torn apart, all her healing and abilities snatched away. One month of watching the Other’s Mate through the bars to her cell, watching her look back with tears that glistened in her eyes as she pressed a hand against her trembling lips.

One month.

\---

She could feel the sting in the air, the uncomfortable heat that blossomed underneath her skin, inside of her heart, straining against every tendon and piece of gristle as the Beast made itself known. She relished the feeling of Wild anger and power that threaded along her spine, relished the feeling of claws made new, teeth made sharp.

They tried to control her.

She_ hated _that.

But with the power came the fear, the knowledge that they would not let this stand, they would pour their poison down her throat again,_ lock her up again, _**_chain her again- _ **

The Other’s Mate was chosen to carry out her hobbling, her hair a brilliant shade of black that served only to remind her of Mistress, of darkness and harsh fingers, of madness and blinding pleasure. Her hands shook as she reached up through the bars of her cage, words quiet, words soft, words that could not be true.

But they were.

_ And she was ready. _


	4. A Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if I enjoy, or hate, this style.

There was something altogether delightful about watching a face usually so calm and composed devolve into a mask of mindless fear that twisted into abject horror.

It was the churning of their features, the arch of their brows, or maybe just the way their lips hung open in shock as nothing at all came forth.

Whatever it was she loved it, craved it, sought it out high and low whenever she went hunting.

Unleashed.

Uncaged.

_ Free. _

The Other’s Mate obliged her in that respect, the liquid poison falling down her throat a bitter swallow tinged with cherries and other fruity notes.

Buffered.

Tainted.

A chemical or a trace relieving her of the burden of Humanity, the shackles of her mind all snapped and loosed to let the Beast roam free upon her form.

She pounded, bashed, crashed all the weight of herself forward with unrelenting fury-

_ Crack. _

Just one, but one was enough, just a single split was all she needed, all she sought-

_ Crack. _

Another joined its sister as she assaulted it yet again. There would be no stopping her, no puny stick of wood strong enough to halt her momentum and no words loud enough to rise above the overbearing strength of her howl.

Her mind was free.

Her body would soon join it.

One.  _ More.  _ ** _Crack._ **

The splinters of iron and steel hung in the air as she passed them by with speed far too eager to quell or halt. Stones rumbled and the wood above her head all shook with the force of her impact, a howling kicking up from the room over as the Other finally caught on to her little play.

Too little.

Too late.

He was in pain, she was basking in the fury of  _ true _ strength.

He was hobbled, she was stretching every muscle to bask in the wondrous lack of silver.

He was caged.

She was not.

The Mate was a shivering wreck of warm blood and the roiling stench of fear, her eyes black pools wide and hollow that seemed to glitter in the offshoots of moonlight that passed through the open space.

One touch. One bite. 

A Gift freely given, but not one without cost. 

Another pressed her, Red and tall and smelling  _ off _ but still so Human, still so sickly and angered where before it had only been the maddening stench of cowardice.

Her claws were heavy but there was room to move, to swing, manoeuvring forward and over and then  _ through. _

Claiming a prize might have been her right but there was so little time to move, so few hours until the dawn, and she would need to move quickly if she were to find her Mistress.

The Black Witch.

A scent so faint it was barely there more than a month after her arrival, just the dredges lifting against the skill of her nose, of her instincts, a pale ribbon that had been stretched taut until it was nearly too thin to even pick up.

But she could find it.

And she could follow it.

Up and out, crashing over stairs and into a door that barely held her back.

Through and around, her claws and fangs and weight an unstoppable combination.

Spellfire embedded into her fur just as her teeth dug into their neck, red and yellow turned to a sickly green that reminded her oh so very much of  _ Him. _

The first.

_ Her  _ prize.

She needed another.

A luminescent afterthought trickling at the back of her mind while she  _ sang _ with all the air in her lungs.

Wreckage and blood sat lonely in her wake, the field outside barren and devoid of any trees or any cover that could slake the silvered liquid pouring down upon her skin.

The Moon called.

She answered.

Her feet had never carried her quite so quick.

Her song had never carried quite so far.

\---

The body pushing forward past the gates leading towards the Manor was limping with every step.

One.

In front.

Of the other.

Her eyes told the others to stay away, her bared fangs told those who wouldn’t listen to fuck off, and the head cradled in her arms told everyone else that she was here for one reason, and one reason only.

The Black Witch beat a path of destruction as she descended, awakened and informed by Elves no longer living that she had returned triumphant, if late. 

The air was sweet and carried the piercing red of her spells with effortless grace, the tumbling gift seeming to stare back up at her as she writhed and howled beneath the woman’s ministrations. A sound started off as a burble before it reached a croak, a rumble rising into staccato breaks until each peal and rising lilt of the cackle matched her owner note for note.

The spells stopped as she found herself being pulled forward, arms grasping around her waist and shoulders, a face buried within her matted hair and fingernails digging underneath her skin.

The sweet scent above the Black Witch’s pulse called to the Beast lodged within her chest. And who was she to deny it?

Her nose pressed up, stuck right against her, tongue drawing circles against porcelain skin as the woman above her drowned them both in eager cries.

_ ‘You came back-’ _

Fingers passing downwards, eyes upon the prize still littering the floor, heat rushing out as she writhed and  _ ached. _

\---

The War outside their walls wasn’t ended.

The fighting went on, and her prey grew with it.

But that night, as she danced beneath the silver glow, there was retribution. Punishment doled out in heaps with stinging lances.

Ichor overflowed her lips, the Black Witch somewhere at her side with crazed glee and powerful voice extolling all  _ their  _ failures. Nowhere to run. Nowhere for them to hide. What few remained a poor replacement for true justice, but taken all the same.

Red.

The colour of  _ Her _ spells, the colour dripping off her maw, the stinging sight of fear and death that sought them out for retribution.

Whatever redemption she could have found-

Whatever promise her Gold may have once held-

All of it torn to shreds in a little cell beneath the home of what was once a Friend.

What left, and what came back, was a Monster.


	5. Sister

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More messing around with styles and ideas. Lightly edited

“Oh Pet, what a strong nose you have.”

_ Shuffling, her chest straining as she fought to breathe in and out, deep and languid, inhaling all the myriad scents of blood and battle, fire and smoke- _

“Oh Pet, what strong ears you have.”

_ Pointed tips that twitched and angled themselves towards the slightest creak, the smallest sound, the beating of a single heart deep within a chest- _

“Oh Pet, what strong eyes you have.”

_ Twinned orbs of yellow, sometimes a green or rusted brown, luminous and all-seeing even as they pierced through the thickest mist- _

“Oh Pet, what sharp teeth you have.”

_ Curled daggers that shortened to a point, rending and tearing against flesh that was ripped from bone- _

“Oh Pet, what sharp claws you have.”

_ Sharpened knives that had been honed on bone and cold stone, all the better to shatter and pull apart as she dug through a once beating chest- _

“Take her.  _ Now.” _

The strength in that voice commanded something that until that moment had remained locked within Hermione, and as a good Pet should, she listened and obeyed.

Set free the beast.

Her Mistress’s rendition of the poem might have been all wrong, a twisted abomination meant to suit her own needs and insane whims, but it was still the truth. Truth uttered from a terrible woman, as if  _ she  _ were Little Red instead of the monster that brayed outside the door.

No matter though. Hermione knew she was a Pet, a  _ thing, _ an obsession that had somehow been given form and function amid the working of the New World. Her duty had been twisted and locked onto her Mistress rather than the Ruler of their world, and so she would work as her Mistress saw fit.

A duty honed and sharpened until she found herself here with a form too human but still less. No Moon hung above her, but the scent of  _ kin _ that filtered among the smoke was almost enough to have her shifting and pawing at the ground.

_ She was  _ ** _here._ **

_ Kin _ that she had created,  _ kin _ that she had scented,  _ kin _ that she had let wander uninstructed in the aftermath of her escape. It could be termed as a mistake, more or less.

More less, and now more.

Her kin had sent out whispered pleas when they came to collect her, fought with them tooth and nail and fang and claw-

All to no avail. The Moon had seen fit to sap her strength the night before, and now no energy remained left for her to fight.

“You’ll come with us,” she growled low, aware their tumble was over.

The meat of a palm colliding with her cheek was the answer, something that felt all too pithy and filled with terror more than hate. 

Still, the action would not stand, no matter the reasoning behind it. She had been frightened once. She had been  _ terrified _ once. 

No more.

And she would not tolerate it from a  _ lesser, _ would not stand to leave that infraction alone, not arisen and now sanctified as she was.

Her fingers dug and curled into hair that steadfastly refused to be labelled with any one colour; shifting, sliding, fading from red to black to the colour of her changed eyes with no moment of pause between. Nothing steady, nothing chosen, no moment of reflection or collection of acknowledged emotion.

Just a body fighting back, fighting fear, one Beast to another and Hers was the stronger of the two.

“You  _ will _ come with us,” she emphasized with fangs digging into skin. “You  _ will _ Serve,” she punctuated with grasping claws that dug out rivers in red. “Our Mistress will train you,  _ I _ will train you-”

The Kin in her hold went limp, a slackening of their limbs, a paling of their flesh, a chill descending between them both. They had only just been so warm, so eager, to fight back with every breath and snarl.

Now they lay pallid and shivering. Now they lay in the grasp of fear, or something kin to that.

“No, no,” she twisted out across a tongue too thick for delicate articulation, “You’ll love it, love her, I swear it.”

The body in her grasp suddenly rolled and twisted in efforts skewed towards an escape, limp but moving, grasping for  _ something. _ She marked her then, her  _ Kin, _ with claws and laving tongue. Palms expressive, nails leaving indents, cheek against cheek as the emotions between them both seemed to swell and spill. 

One might have been anger. One might have been lust. Neither cared.

Her Kin may be claimed by their shared Mistress, ordained as a Pet to her and her alone, but this one belonged to  _ Her _ by right. By right of conquest, by right of creation.

Warm hands tipped with sharp claws, teeth that caught and snagged on supple flesh. Imprints leaving lazy scars against the outline of her neck. 

It wasn’t enough to calm her down, couldn’t be with all the embers drifting onto their backs, all the smoke filling up the air… But it was enough to sate the need for touch.

All over now, all settled now, except the shouting.

And quite possibly the screaming, though that would only likely start when they had returned to Home. Or maybe earlier, if she were any tardier in returning to their Mistress.

Her hand wrapped up around a tensing bicep, body hauled along with strength and fevered mutterings. They needed to move, they were being called-

Warm air whipping and caressing cooled skin, their Mistress staring back with darkness behind her eyes.

A twisted smile on her lips.

“Well then?”

Her Kin fell forward onto knees scraped red and raw.

The smile widened. Hermione tittered, something jovial but broken, falling down to wrap herself upon the shivering form of her kin.

“Niece.”

\---

Being lifted up and shoved -  _ or tossed, really _ \- into the abyss of a darkened room with no source of light wasn’t exactly what Nymphadora had been expecting. It certainly was startling, that much was for sure. Her heart rate spiked, her feet scrabbled on the marble, even a terrified scream had lurched up within her throat.

But that was all it was-

A shove, a push, no stinging pain of death as she had been expecting.

Then again she hadn’t truly been expecting very much.

Possibly an Avada to her back? Maybe her front, if the Black Witch was interested in one final family reunion.

Or maybe she had been worried that a Mad Witch would send a Mad Dog to finish what she had started all those days ago. A disembowelling? Maybe a strong bite to her neck, or claws digging her heart from out beneath her ribcage.

Whatever it was, she hadn’t expected the room. She hadn’t expected its warmth, nor the heat pouring off a body that followed in right after her. Someone -  _ an Alpha _ \- who was just as jittery as she, but smelling of  _ something _ pleasant that she could not articulate. Home? Or perhaps just something familiar.

Strong limbs wrapped around her as she sat there, pulling and tugging at her shoulders until she bowed into the embrace that reminded her so much of-

_ No. _

Her mind cut out, her thoughts clamped shut. 

She would not tarnish  _ His _ memory by thinking of Him here. She would not ruin the last images she had of Him. Would not blacken the warmth and love that poured forth when He forced her away and off towards what had been assumed as safety but was, in fact, a trap.

Lips trailed from collar to jaw, “Relax.”

She shivered, and though she leaned into it she fought it all the same.

The voice whispered again, “You’re safe now, safe with us. Safe with me.”

The syllables were  _ off _ and lilting where they shouldn’t. A consequence of change and torment, or some inner machination of the Wolf.

\---

“Kneel, Girl.”

The Mad Witch tutted, impatience rolling forth, her newest Pet taking precious seconds to waver back and forth through indecision. Dallying would not be tolerated, a lack of resolution would be punished. Her wand tightened -  _ twisting and curving _ \- until the silver collar on her Pet’s neck began to collapse and shrink. She still hadn’t managed to settle on an appropriate name for her newest addition, likely she wouldn’t find one for a few more days, but her Sister remained somewhat fond of the Original.

Nymphadora; a saint for those who dwelled in Mud, a gift from Nymphs, the cousins to Elves.

But perhaps a new name should be decided. Perhaps a christening of change was in order, or maybe just a shortening. No one outside these walls would be privy to whatever she decided, no one could shame or pick at whichever she chose.

Unless their wayward Sibling came home, and even that seemed too much to ask for.

Nymph, then, at least until something else was chosen. At the least, it would cease confusion while they still trained.

“Kneel, Nymph.”

The Wolf-Witch by her side trembled in anticipation-

_ Suffering? _

_ Backlash? _

_ Admonition? _

No matter. The Wolf-Witch placed before her was more important, for now.

She knelt with halting movements and shivers that wrecked her form with undulations and quivering flesh.

_ Unsure- Unwilling- Unwanted- _

_ Uninhibited;  _ after being forcefully remade by her loyal Pet.

Eventually she kneeled, will caving in to fall below her. A welcome change, where before there had only been heated looks. Her reward was hand on skin, fingering the spots of silvered flesh where she had been scarred and reborn, forever embossed and left clean to show.

“Did my poor little Pet hurt you? Oh Nymph,” hand under chin, lifting until eyes of yellow stared back, nails digging in. “My poor little Nymph. She didn’t mean to hurt you. She has a temper, my Pet. She can be quite-”

-eyes flashing over to spare a glance at her Pet, now kneeling in the corner with legs splayed and hand between her thighs, eyes wide open with-

_ “-vindictive, _ when she wants.”

_ Vindictive. _

If that wasn’t an understatement then she was a Half-Blood. She had watched with delight as her Pet tore apart the throat of the Traitor who had captured her, maw and lips dripping red. She had watched as she screamed and roared and bit through bone to tear apart marrow and organ alike. 

It was  _ perfect. _

It was a response she hadn’t expected, hadn’t anticipated, but now she looked for replication.

For  _ surety. _

“Oh Nymph, my dear, poor little Nymph.” A hand dragging along her back, across skin and taut muscle that turned to shiver and roil beneath her touch.

Was she worried then? Or perhaps scared, or even terrified?

Possibly.

Or maybe something else. Maybe her wayward Sibling had done well enough as to work out  _ some _ of her issues. Instil  _ some _ discipline.

Time to find out.

\---

The harshness of a beating  _ was _ a beating.

It was cruel, inhumane, and filled through with anger.

Until it wasn’t.

Until striking fists turned to flattened palms. Until the sting against her backside took on a new meaning. Until the stinging pains that wracked her cheek were no longer just used to instil fear.

Until the words that  _ She _ spoke were more a plea than an order.

_ Please-  _ Do as she says.

_ Please-  _ Spare us both the pain and torment.

Both of them were trained, both of them were pained. Hermione’s tacit acceptance, hushed murmurs, supplication uttered with tears in her eyes-

Hermione had been through this, had  _ lived _ through it all before. Bathed herself in fires that Nymphadora knew not, and come out all the harder for it. And yet here she still was, fighting each and every step. Every hour, every minute, every second. She bit the hands that reluctantly fed her, giving them nothing but reluctance and pain.

Making Hermione suffer.

Making  _ her _ suffer.

To what end?

She would not thwart Bellatrix here, the woman had raised herself up too much. She had gained importance in Hermione’s eyes, a kind of fevered religion that left her unwanted pack-mate with quiet tones upon her lips.

Mistress, whenever they were left alone.  _ Alpha, _ whenever Hermione thought that she wasn’t listening.

Hermione had made it through this, had lived to fight again.

And so would she.

\---

Her Kin was a reluctant student, that much was obvious. But she was also smarter than anyone would give her credit for, and the Change had simply improved her mind and abilities.

Chains held them both low to the ground with loops of enchanted silver that would never bend, would never break. Link after link, one after the other, connecting them both to collars that connected them both to ground.

Connected straight through to their souls.

A leash, for lack of any better terms.

Or rather, the lack of anything that would more honestly describe what held them.

A leash that, with time, she had come to cherish with all her love. A leash that she held deep at night, even when the metal burned against her skin and chaffed where it had constricted around her soul. Still, this was not normal. The leash she had worn had lain discarded for weeks, no longer necessary to keep her bound to the Black Witch. Regrettable, but necessary now, in a bid to teach her Kin to heel. To stand at their Mistress’s side unmoving, unwavering in her conviction and her flesh. 

And her Kin resented that with all her heart. So much so that one night, one day, when the leash was just a  _ little  _ too loose-

_ “No!” _

Her legs exploded at the same moment as her Kin, arms shooting out to wrap around a nude waist that had grown thin from a loss of food. Loss of appetite, loss of will, her new body requiring  _ more. _

But  _ she _ was well-fed. 

She dragged them backwards as a whisper loosed their chains, collars now banished to let them both tumble through their struggle.

That the Black Witch might have planned this from the start was more fact than suspicion, an instance of knowledge rooted deep enough let her understand the reasoning. Of course she would manage to pit them together, if only for the strong to rise to the top. She was being tested.

And Hermione was nothing if not good at tests, no matter their form. 

She was strong. Had not these past few years proven that?

Strong enough that she could dig in nails, draw forth blood and screams, jostling and fighting to push the woman beneath her into submission. Snarls, pants, broken syllables of what might have once been words-

All of it fell past her lips and jagged teeth, all of it uttered with the reverence of prayer.

Prayers for blood and fire and  _ pleasure, _ but still.

A prayer nonetheless.

\---

Nymphadora hadn’t been expecting the pushback. Hadn’t once even thought that Hermione was-

Well.

That was her first mistake, wasn’t it? Believing that Hermione was incapable of fighting back, or wasn’t willing to do anything it took in the protection of her Mistress. Gods but the smaller witch was  _ strong. _ Her body was formed from bands of iron that hauled her back to the ground even as Mist-  _ Bellatrix, _ left them alone. Was she so callus as to leave her niece to her fate? Willing to let the end pass without even watching?

Or had she another plan in mind, some particular deviance that required all her attentions, or inattentions, in turn?

It was no matter. She could question her Aunt’s decision later when she wasn’t busy with witch atop her body. It might have been termed fighting. It could be called as such, or not, seeing as all the intensity of Hermione was now focused down at the slit between her legs.

Palm laid flat, fingers digging in, a hold much harsher than a caress; more consumption than innocent touch.

The action was unexpected but so strong-

_ Gods _ but it did wonders to the flush that had been sitting just beneath her skin. Her heart  _ pounded _ as a moan crossed her bruised lips, a rolling of her eyes betraying a sudden move to a more open position. A weakness that Hermione immediately sought to take advantage over. A warmth that Hermione readily sought out.

Whatever had been simmering between them since the night of her rebirth had finally come to a head.

What might have been a fight switched over before her eyes into something that brought heat in its stead. Something peculiar burst to life inside her chest, strong and  _ wanting _ and  _ howling _ in a sound she hadn’t heard before.

Hermione’s lips found her own soon enough, just as a hand reached up to palm wrists and pin them above her head with a feral pressure that left her mewling and panting into the mouth above her. Straddled from above, hips pressing down against her own, thighs bracketing and holding her in place as the hand between her legs teased dew to spill forth. The swollen flesh at her apex twinged when Hermione ground down with her palm, rubbing and swirling with so much friction that she saw stars flashing out in the darkness behind her eyelids.

The mouth latched to her own invaded with tongue and teeth that nipped along her lips, down along her jaw, tilting and piercing into the curving skin of her throat-

_ “Fuck!” _ Her voice was a hoarse utterance of scrambled tones, all of it thrown into disarray by Hermione  _ clamping _ down into the hollow between shoulder and throat. It would scar, would pain her even if she healed faster, and Gods was it well-timed. The hand between her legs picked up its pace until her heart was racing to see which would come first; she, or a bloody heart attack.

She did, of course, within some length of time that was filled through with panting and cried moans instead of words.

\---

Her newest Pet was a quick study, masterful in her learned techniques, and willing to close whatever distance stood between herself and her sire.

Bellatrix found it amusing, arousing, and worrying all the same. All of that power, all of that strength, all of it pushed down into her first Pet. She would need to clamp down some, instil some newer values, maybe even involve a few rounds with Imperius in place.

Something that would ground her Wolf-Witch into the moment, forever in her service.

Later though.

After she finished watching her once-niece -  _ wolf-witch _ \- come undone at her Pet’s ministrations.

After she cleaned herself of the remnants of her voyeuristic excitement.

After.


	6. Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to figure out a style for Nymph's sections. not so much like Hermione, but a weird little mix. I'll settle soon.

Pale bodies stripped clean of vestments, stripped of collars, clad only in the silvered scars of their Ascension.

Jagged teeth and bruised lips, hands and claws dipped and painted red.

The smell of iron and sweat and  _ something _ sweet upon the air.

Nymph wasn’t exactly sure, but she thought she may have just eaten someone.

She was  _ fairly _ certain that she may have just eaten someone. Partially?  _ Almost _ sure.

Maybe another variation on that then. Partial surety, buffeted by the swirling pull of something inside her mind that whispered in cloying tones that she need not worry if she had, or hadn’t eaten, human flesh.

The voice said that she needn’t care. Needn’t wonder. 

It said that of all the things that mattered in her world,  _ this was not one of those things. _

The voice sounded like  _ Alpha. _ The voice sounded like  _ Mistress. _

The voice said it didn’t matter.

_ But it did. _

It did matter, she was so sure of it! Certainly her stomach seemed to agree with her, sated and now filled as it was. What had she done to fill it?

Who had she killed?

_ Why? _

It was something that had tasted-

-lips claimed her fingers, sharp teeth nipping at the calloused skin. Claws drew lines along her chest, along her chin, a tongue reaching out to invade her mouth and drive errant thoughts away.

The thoughts were for later then. When she wasn’t here. When Mistress let her out. 

All thoughts were dangerous now, regardless of their origin. She could wait for Mistress.

Mistress knew things for them, did things for them, told them what they needed and what they wanted. Mistress would help her.

_ Alpha _ would help if Mistress couldn’t. Maybe she would ask Alpha?

Alpha would know. Alpha was  _ good _ to her now, after she had gotten over their harsh positioning. She had been too angry back then, too enraged. Alpha had  _ hated _ her for a time, in recompense for fighting against their Mistress.

All of that anger had faded into memory. Flashes of images and thoughts all sapped of saturation after weeks spent learning who -  _ what _ \- she was.

She was so  _ free _ now! She had been so scared once, so worried and frightened, all filled up with memories of  _ Him _ and His cause. She hadn’t cherished her new power. She hadn’t yet pushed through every limit that being  _ Human _ imposed on them.

She had been weak.

Now she was strong.

\---

Andromeda smashed her way down onto the floor with no hint of grace or poise. Her wrists and knuckles took the brunt of the action, her knees next. In the end, she only just barely managed to avoid having her nose smash down into the cold marble. What an entrance that would have been. Bleeding and torn, without even confronting why she was here.

She shivered and gathered strength for a moment before raising herself up as much as she could to stare at the Monster in the corner.

“Well? Where is she?”

Her words lacked the fire of defiance -  _ she was lost already _ \- that had tinged her earliest replies. Quiet and pleading tones filled her now, all broken in by sadness and disuse.

The Monster tittered and stretched a grin across her face; a look Andromeda had memorized years before, back when the madness had yet to take hold. Still, she could not halt the shivers that wracked her spine nor the ice that pooled low in her belly.

“Ah, Little Andi…”

What was worse-

_ Knowing she had made the decision to come here willingly? Or knowing that she would never have made any other choice? _

“I did as you asked me, Bellatrix.  _ He’s _ dead. Now, where is my daughter?” Her voice lacked steel in the reply, even as she straightened herself and bristled into the face of her elder sibling. There was nothing she would not have done to see her daughter again. All choice had been stolen by the War. It was the only thing she could have done.

If she managed to convince herself of the lie, was it truth?

“Oh, Merlin’s arse. Come off it, Andi. I said that I’d let you see her. Though…” Bellatrix twirled her wand as she approached, heels clicking upon the floor and skirt wrapping about her legs with the force of her advance. “Well, I never did quite say  _ when _ I’d let you see her, now did I? Besides! It’s been so long. Can’t I want for some attention? Dear little Andi come to visit, and after never returning a card last Yule. That was quite rude, you know.”

Rude?  _ Rude!? _ She had the bloody audacity to speak to  _ her _ about rude-

“Oh no, no, no!” Bellatrix dropped down to her knees with a crazed look shining out through her eyes, “No! You do  _ not _ get to pout about this, you bitch! Not when I sent for you to arrive  _ ages _ ago!”

“You reaching out was sending Death Eaters to destroy my home! They killed my  _ Husband! _ Tell me how in any sane world that makes sense, you monstrous bitch!”

Well.

Perhaps it wasn’t exactly the smartest decision to lash out while at the mercy of madness. Most definitely it wasn’t the correct choice or the safest. Poor taste, really. Especially if the slap that rang out against her cheek was anything to judge by.

“Fine then, you traitorous little Mud-fucker. How about we go see your precious little daughter; my  _ Pet.” _

_ That couldn’t be- _

“Ah!” Andromeda tried to fight off the hand that suddenly wound itself around her hair and  _ yanked.  _ A feral growling from her sister had her wavering, dropping hands and ceasing her struggles not a second later.

Bellatrix was stronger than her. Nothing would come of fighting whatever, or wherever, she was taking her. Her sister had always been the strongest of them, even since they were little more than children fighting over cheap toys.

Andromeda rose to her feet when the hand threatened to pull at her again. Not a second later she was being dragged forward with her head bent and wand yanked from her holster, her feet echoing madly in the wake of the Mad Witch. She had nowhere to go but follow, especially not if she valued her life and a chance at seeing her child again.

Gods but it had been so very long since she had laid eyes on Nymphadora. Two years? Three? 

The very first had been filled with worry for her daughter as she fought a War that seemed unwinnable. No victory in sight. The years after that had been filled in with despair and mourning after she heard of the destruction of the Last Safehouse. The Order’s final measure, gone.

Wilkie Twycross’s home had been absolutely burned to the ground, and all the land surrounding it salted. It had been home to the reformation effort focused upon Hermione Granger -  _ a lie if Andromeda had ever heard one, they had been plunging into her mind for information, not salvation _ \- and now a graveyard filled with fifteen souls.

Andromeda’s tears would have carried on filling lakes for centuries if that damned owl hadn’t shown up.

And all of it led her here.

Body being dragged on down a hallway devoid of any other signs of life, devoid of the blonde smirking of her other sister, devoid of any sort of hope. She would manage this, a moment with her daughter for one last time. She would make sure that Nymphadora was as safe and healthy as she could be -  _ considering the circumstances _ \- and then likely she would meet her end. She supposed that this was all Bellatrix’s plan; weaken Nymphadora with her demise, make her crack or spill some secret. But Andromeda would right that before she left. She would give her daughter hope of a freer tomorrow. The Resistance was-

“Here we are, here we are. Your precious little Mud-spawn, my dear sister. Go on, take a look. She doesn’t bite.” Bellatrix hauled her up to full height, smashed her body forward, ground her face against the thin but harsh exterior of a shielding ward.

Andromeda’s teeth ground down against her lips and cheek from the force of the hold. It seemed Bellatrix wanted to smash her into the shield so hard that her skull would be crushed, a rather ignoble end if anyone asked her. The hold only lasted a second or two before suddenly the hand was withdrawn, her sister stepping away, leaving Andromeda to stand there and stare ahead through a film of lilac.

“Well, I suppose that isn’t quite truthful. She doesn’t bite, unless I  _ order _ it.”

The thin shield visibly flickered, then faded. There one moment, gone the next-

A hand was suddenly in the middle of her back and with a rush of movement, Andromeda found herself pushed forward into that twilight space. Her body tumbled as she fell down past the former barrier, the world spinning as she descended towards the ground again. The torches all around the space were only barely lit, the ones furthest from her left cold entirely. It was, however, just enough light to give her somewhat of a more graceful descent than the last time.

The rest of the room stayed in shadow as she moved, and as she lay there on her hands and aching knees, she  _ heard _ something. Something breathing, something moving, something approaching. 

Something keening.

Something panting.

“Dear Nymph was quite good at fighting back. Took ages for me to break her in, far longer than the Granger girl. You managed to raise a warrior, despite whatever reservations you must have had. But, well, with the right instruction she learned just as well as any other Pet. I just needed to understand her trigger. And hers? It’s  _ power, _ dear Andi. It’s all she responds to.”

The voice behind her was strong, boastful, happy even. Andromeda spared herself only a momentary glance backwards to stare back at where she had been. Bellatrix stared back at her with shield in place again and her eyes roving up and over to a place away from her, quick as could be. Andromeda’s eyes chased the new line of sight, slowly coming around the corner of the room just as the sconces along the far wall came to life.

_ “No…” _


	7. Claimant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is unedited.  
This chapter contains incest. Skip if that bothers you.

Something-

Someone was in here with them. 

She could smell it - _ them _ \- against the far side of the room. Alpha held her back, pushed her down to knees, spread her thighs and claimed the heat growing in her core. Sharp tipped fingers rolling out an angry rhythm. 

Alpha was angry. Alpha was upset. Alpha didn't want to share her, no matter what Mistress said. 

But Mistress was right-

_ Alpha _was too. 

But Nymph… She didn't care. The power plays between them. So high above her on a level she could not touch. 

The voice Curled up inside her head, the black wolf with golden eyes that spoke in tones borrowed from Mistress and Alpha… 

It said to relax. 

She listened. 

_ It was so much easier to listen. _

They were both so much stronger than her, so much more in tune. Best she rest her mind, relax and let them lead. 

Let them lead her where? 

Here. 

She breathed in deep, the remnants of some memory fading into obscurity with the cloying scent of home. Odd that. 

Home? 

Home and… Something the voice said she loved. Needed and wanted.

Wanted home? 

She had home. She knew home. Home was lying curled along with Alpha atop Mistress's sheets. Home was wherever the voices led her-

A rustling caught her ears, the sound and taste of Mistress filling the air. Heels on marble, voices arguing. 

She didn't know what the voices said. Mistress had done something days ago, some magic - _ she used to do that, didn't she? _ \- twisting everything she heard until only three voices made it through the fog. 

Their Lord, her Mistress, her Alpha. 

\---

Andromeda wasn't sure what she had expected. Her daughter trussed up? Obviously abused?

Maybe. 

Or perhaps pleading and screaming, a broken shell of the girl she had raised. 

She hadn't expected to see her Nymphadora chained down to the ground with lengths of silver, nude as the day she'd been born. 

She hadn't expected Hermione to be behind Nymph, standing and swaying as she stared holes into Andromeda’s head. 

“Granger tends to be the more lucid of the pair, though not by much these days. Easier for her to slip into her new skin, I think. Easier than it was for Fenrir at least. Cissa, well she thinks it’s because she’s a Mud-witch. Even that despicable oaf was a member of Purebloods, soiled though they became.” 

The witch behind her tutted once, twice, then spoke again.

“No matter, they both listen well enough. Even if Granger is more likely to question or toy with the things I give her. It’s little Nymph you’re here to see anyways, and I’d never stand in the way of a reunion like that. But be mindful, little Sister. She may have been your daughter,” the sound of heels retreating down the path that she had only just walked reached Andromeda’s ears. “But she’s _ my _ Pet.”

Something happened. Some whispered magic, hushed and twisting.

She watched with bated breath as the chains of silver melted away, whole links falling to dust and spinning motes of reflection. 

She hadn't expected this. 

She should of. It would be just like her sister to have her killed by her own daughter. 

\---

Hermione understood what this moment was. 

How could she not? Bellatrix thought her half-mad these days and truth be told she was very, _ very _ close to losing the edge of that definition. It was, as Bellatrix had said, _ easier _ to be what she was rather than who she may have once been.

More fun as well, even if her toys never saw it that way.

Well, all of them except for dearest Nymph.

A toy she hadn’t known she’d wanted, a prized possession now that she was soundly underfoot.

Or paw, she supposed.

Hermione understood what Bellatrix wanted, and so let her have it.

Nymph prowled out from her grasp, a last look backwards as she sought out confirmation, approval, _ permission. _ Permission Hermione readily gave, if only to see what would happen.

Andromeda smelled like Mistress from where she sat back on her arse, something wicked and cloying in a way that had her pawing at the flattened portion of her face.

Sloping, one could call it.

Twisted, as _ she _ would claim it.

But strong enough to scent fear and pain and worry and all the myriad little things that made up _ terror. _ Terror sweetened by the confusion within dear Nymph, her Little Wolf, her _ toy- _

“She likes you, Andromeda.”

A rumble more a growl, but enough to be understood.

Enough to elicit confusion. Enough to give Nymph the chance to pounce.

\---

Her teeth _ sang _ when they dug in-

Claws and palm and heat and _ screams- _

Something, something sweet, something wet-

_ It tasted so _ ** _good-_ **

Her tongue was rough, inhuman, _ wrong, misshapen- _

Her tongue was enough to taste and lick and savour the smell of Mistress that clung to this woman, this _ beast _ this _ creature _ so very unlike her.

Her fingers and claws were enough to determine - _ beneath wraps of fabric shredded oh so quickly _ \- that this being was soft, was malleable, could meld and twist and turn and drive _ heat _ into her core.

Something sparked, something withered, a memory long gone of halls and learning and Professors and floors and lips upon her neck and a body so sweet and she was _ warm. _

This one was warm, although familiar, although scenting showed only Mistress and herself.

Salt.

She tasted salt.

Salt was bad, salt burned wounds, salt withered and preserved what ought to be left to rot and crumble-

_ She could fix this she could I could we could fix better make better no salt no tears no bad no lash no _ ** _hurt-_ **

\---

Predictably, or not, Nymph turned to her when all went south.

She hadn’t _ truly _ fed before, hadn’t _ turned _ or played with her food.

Food.

Or a toy?

Mistress revealed nothing, gave them nothing, and though it was a test as much as it was a treat, Hermione hated guessing on her own.

A treasure then, something to preserve. A reminder? Perhaps. If Nymph could be roused from where her mind lay deep inside.

So she nodded, paced forward, and knelt by the terrified woman.

A bite, a kiss, laving tongue and _ magic _ set to work.

\---

Nymph could learn, Nymph could emulate, Nymph could follow orders given by sight and movement alone.

Alpha was teaching her, Alpha was showing her, and in her haste, she moved with fevered passion.

The lips trembled as she pressed them against her own, the tongue was fighting, rigid, unyielding until it wasn’t. Until _ it _ took hold.

The Boon.

The Curse.

The Heat that flowed through their veins and set them all on fire.

She ground and tore what fabric remained, memories of times long past informing movements in the present.

A knee between thighs, a hand on hardened bud, tongue swirling, fingers grasping, massaging and pushing heat.

She lowered herself to nectar, to dew, to fragrant ichor that intermingled with the blood that poured down her chest. She rolled her tongue and dipped, Alpha behind her with steady presence and body pressed into her own, cooing praise and wonder, encouragement and desire.

She could feel hands reaching underneath her to flick a bud of startled nerves as the other wound about her waist in _ ownership _ of her skin. The woman she held onto _ burned _ with the ferocity of their Boon, her body bucking unnaturally between the blossom nipped between her legs and tainted venom pouring through her veins.

The toy screamed, unholy and broken, as the flush matched the liquid staining so much of her skin.

Over then, and relatively quick.

Faster than she had expected-

Though she wouldn’t complain about that to Alpha or Mistress, not when Alpha still held fingers buried within her and teeth clamped onto the curving portion of her neck.

Mind clearing-

Pulse dropping-

_ Mistress _ in the distance, stick waved and tingling setting upon her skin.

Nymph pulled back.

Nymph opened her eyes.

Nymphadora _ screamed. _


	8. Breeding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains A/B/O themes & dubious consent.  
If this will bother you, pass on the chapter.  
\---  
This is, as ever, not a happy chapter. I don't think anyone in this weird story is happy, except maybe Bellatrix and Hermione.  
No Edit, No Beta

Hands painted red and claws that dripped softly into the carpet. Hair that was once brown and soft, now braided and stained with the remnants of her last meal. A sound was keening all around her ears and filling the air, a low and throbbing pulse that quickened her with a desire to return the same. A desire that was born somewhere far below her rational self and flooding its way through the passages of her heart.

This was not the life she had expected to be living. This was not at all what she had been preparing for when she came to confront her sister. But the moment those jaws had clamped down upon her neck, she had accepted it. She had been terrified for sure but she had given up all hope of living another moment. 

The pain had been insane, the one initiating it had been insane, the one standing behind her had been insane. 

The knowledge of what was supposed to happen once the teeth let go and a tongue lapped at her core was shocking, to say the least.

Wolves were supposed to not be contagious unless transformed by the light of a moon. That was what they had been told, that was what they all believed.

It was all a lie. Or perhaps, in reality, this was just some new trait of the breed that her sister was developing. A new breed that she had unfortunately found herself a part of, a member in an experiment that ran only for Bellatrix’s amusement.

Amusement that would remind her of its presence every minute or two, an amusement that was at once just as haunting as it was succulent. A voice, a titter, a moan or cajoling word.

A sound from the bed behind her, and nothing more. 

Andromeda supposed she should be grateful to even have these wonders, these questions. She had been spared all of her intelligence and her mind, her emotions and reality still present.

Well, present enough. The Wolf would have its due but she had not truly descended. Nymphadora had not been quite so lucky. Nymphadora had been beaten down until she was only nymph, a treat that Bellatrix trained into being a trap.

But she was not supposed to think about all that. She was supposed to simply remain quiet and demure. She was supposed to present her body, keep her face down atop the too soft carpet.

She was supposed to be happy that she had a reprieve from the creature that her daughter had become.

But she couldn’t be happy about it. Not when the reminder was oh so very close.

Hermione, the one who had dragged them all into this. Hermione, the once Golden Girl now tarnished. Hermione, the only one of them to have well and truly come into her own. Bellatrix had accepted the Wolf, incorporated it, brought it into her heart and made it her Pet.

Bellatrix would torment her with reminders of her place within this unholy pack. She would reinforce her lessons with pain until Andromeda understood that this was to be her pack, her hierarchy. Bellatrix at the top of them all, even if she didn’t truly slot into the structure of it.

Bellatrix was merely Mistress to them all, and Andromeda could not claim that wasn’t true.

Bellatrix made sure that she couldn’t ever make a retort to that assumption. Stole her voice, stole  _ that _ instead of everything else. She left Andromeda quiet, left her purring, left her to speak only in guttural snarls and broken screams.

_ Her own sister had done this to her! _

One of the few people who was supposed to have kept her safe, loved, warm amid the icy blackness of despair. One of the few people who should have been comforting her when everything went wrong.

Then again it was somewhat typical of Bellatrix to laugh in the face of a standard family dynamic. She had never once been normal, at least not that Andromeda could remember, and she was stuck wondering whether Bellatrix ever  _ had _ been normal. She wondered if there was something else at work during their earliest years, something dark and invasive and intent only on swallowing them all whole. Something that would quite easily explain just why a little girl with too dark hair would-

_ “Ah!” _ Andromeda screamed, a slap landing across her backside without a moment's notice and spreading pain throughout her rear. It was her alert, her warning that whatever was happening above her was now complete.

Andromeda growled lowly and dug her cheek further into the carpeting beneath her, fought to regain her breath, fought to keep her composure just long enough for Bellatrix to find someone else to toy with.

A second passed before she realized it hadn’t been Bellatrix. The scent that slowly wafted down to her nostrils was much too interesting for that. Too acrid, too sweet.

It was Hermione.

It was her  _ Alpha. _ It was whatever the girl had grown into and something altogether  _ more. _

Something that now seemed quite incessant in its desire to force a hand between her folds, legs shoved awkwardly in between Andromeda’s own and knees soon knocking against her calves. Andromeda could do no more than widen her stance and bite down upon her lip, ready and waiting for whatever form of degradation that Bellatrix wished upon her.

It would be  _ something, _ she knew that much. Hermione was special after all. She could walk around on two legs without being reprimanded, she could speak without being spoken to and toy with all the Death Eaters that called this estate home. 

She was the most well respected of Bellatrix’s toys, despite her rather horrifying descent into the mindstate of some feral monster. Something that was much closer to a beast, and far more willing to join in with Bellatrix’s sadism.

Hermione was, in Andromeda’s rather worthless opinion, as much a monster as her sister.

And then a heated  _ thing _ forced itself into Andromeda’s body, and she erased any doubt pertaining to Hermione’s stance as a horror.

She fought back against the pressure and moved to push up from her kneeling position, much more an automatic response to the stimulus between her legs than anything else. The sudden girth of the  _ thing _ being forced into her was certainly a contributing factor to the yelp of fear that accompanied her jerking movements.

For nought, of course. Her reaction was stifled almost immediately by the sudden clanking of chains and a pulling weight that centred along her neck. The collar that had been attached to her days ago was now being dragged down towards the ground, a short bit now leaving her with a chin just centimetres from the ground and immobile any further. She pulled her arms inwards in an attempt to push the wolf off from her backside, stifled once again by a clanking noise that led to wrists pulled tautly against the floor at her sides.

Burnished silver, a tight grip, nowhere to move and no way out.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Calm yourself, little sister.” Bellatrix spoke to her from atop the bed, her voice cold and distant. 

Andromeda could hear the faintest tint of amusement in that tone, her newly minted senses making everything louder and far less ambiguous.

Bellatrix chuckled darkly beneath her breath, “She’ll be over with you soon, I think. I gave her a nice warm-up so it shouldn’t be too long at least. I neglected to mention that you should have been stretching while you were down there earlier, but, oh well. You’ll get used to it once she’s locked in.”

Locked in? Locked in where?

That sounded bad. That sounded  _ wrong, _ inconsistent to what Andromeda understood of human anatomy. It sounded like something that shouldn’t be happening,  _ couldn’t be happening,  _ ** _absolutely would not-_ **

It would.

Hermione’s length pushed its way inside of her with such a sudden thrust that Andromeda could do nothing but drop away the rational portion of her mind and cry out in dismay. There would be no way to prevent this, no way to play this off and slink away to the shadows. Hermione’s movements were far too smooth and Bellatrix’s chains were far too tight. There was some sort of magic at play here, something that let Hermione move with ease and hammering grace.

Andromeda hated being in this position, hated being collared, hated being  _ mated. _ But she hated letting her sister see her give in far more than that.

She would soldier her way through this. If all this was to be was pain and degradation, then fine. It all it was to be was torture, she would live. Bellatrix could have levied anything at her and she would find a way to survive.  _ This _ was unexpected to be sure but not truly terrible. It was uncomfortable but she had already had one child and tried for more with Theodore, she would not be-

** _“Mine.”_ **

That was as much warning as she was given. The word was stated as roughly as possible, a brief second where Andromeda could realize that this was to be rough, painful, and excruciating in the obvious delight that Hermione would take from the act.

The pace that was set upon her was gruelling at best and overpowering at worst. It managed to shut off the last vestiges of Andromeda’s rationality, it filled her with alien instincts and the growling purity of her Wolf. She was meant to submit to her Alpha, bare her neck and take this pace until they had both reached their limits. She only need be still, steady, not complain. So long as she did this the act would be completed and she would be free. She was meant to take Hermione in, to  _ growl, _ to  _ howl, _ to thank her tormentor when this was over with lazy swipes of her tongue and a panting heat.

Her body was sure of that, even as the last vestiges of her mind fought -  _ failed _ \- against the instinct.

“So you see, little sister, I  _ do _ want something when all of this is done.” Bellatrix’s voice crooned lowly, just barely heard of the crashing din of Hermione’s panting and her own, her tongue lolled out and spittle dripping from burning lips. Bellatrix left her bed and began to walk towards Andromeda’s front, “I want an…  _ army, _ shall we say. I want much more than just a few pets. I want a colony, a proper pack. I want to be able to command legions of you little beasties and tear away at anything standing before me. Our Lord has seen fit to make me the Chief of this little operation and I do not wish to fail him. So long as I accomplish his goals I’m free to do as I please, and this is just the beginning. I’m doing what He wants, doing it faster than even He expected. So, I think I’ve earned this little bit of fun. Right? I mean, it’s only fair that I get a chance to witness this. A little Mudblood-lover laying with another Mudblood, that’s what you always wanted, wasn’t it? Hmm, Pet?”

Andromeda listened with one ear to Bellatrix’s rant, used the other to memorize the sound of Hermione’s moans. She forced back her own as well and clenched her eyes shut tightly against the blackened madness of Bellatrix’s grin.

Hermione would not let her be idle here. No rest, no break. She kept her pace fluid and impossible, let their bodies collide with one another and left fingernails to lash reddened marks along her sides. 

Fingernails turned to claws, lines turned to the piercing of Andromeda’s flesh. Tongue pressed flat against her spine, slow licks that wandered upwards and over to wherever Hermione could reach.

Hermione bit down when the mood finally overtook her. No love bite, no nibble, instead it was a piercing burst of pain that coincided with a damnable effort to split her in half. 

Pain made lesser by the heat and mounting pleasure.

“Yes,” Bellatrix warbled, a hand reaching out and fingernails digging into Andromeda’s chin until her head was lifted and eyes were pointedly glaring back at her. “I think that you’ll do just fine as a test subject, don’t you? I mean I can see you’re getting  _ something _ out of this and while I am as well, well. It’s just not the same, you know? Now we just wait to see if it catches.”

Catches? What would catch? That made no sense, no sense at all. What could she catch?

Andromeda moved her lips, fought against the inevitable disappearance of her own words in an attempt to ask that question. No voice. No question. Nothing but a moment of introspection that was soon dashed away by the advance of something  _ else _ against the entrance to her core. Something thick, something hard, something that was doggedly stopping Hermione from advancing all the way forward.

With a feral snarl, Hermione pushed herself forward one last time and laid her body into Andromeda with so much force they nearly broke. The claws against Andromeda’s side dug in fully, released rivulets of blood and nearly crushed her ribs. 

The knot relented, their bodies pressed flush and locked together while something warm and liquid rushed between them with no end in sight. 

_ “You’ll be the first, little sister, but you will not be the last.” _


	9. Pack of Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crazy train is leaving the station. Hold onto your butts.
> 
> Still attempting to find a styling for nymph  
I'll settle on one eventually.

Something was monumentally wrong with Andromeda and she knew it.

Something was wrong  _ within _ her body.  _ Everything  _ was wrong around her. She too had become  _ wrong _ since that bloody night and the horrors she had been opened up to were constantly looping in her mind.

Hermione -  _ her Alpha, only Alpha, even as Andromeda refused to give voice to that wretched title _ \- was once again at her side. Bellatrix -  _ her Mistress, even though Andromeda would cut out her own tongue and drown on the blood before saying that out loud _ \- was with her as well, hiding along the periphery of the room and staring at them with thinly veiled eyes. Nymphadora -  _ her pack-mate, her pup, her  _ ** _daughter_ ** _ in body but no longer in mind _ \- was behind her and cradling the gentle slopes of Andromeda’s body with as much care as she could muster in her current state.

Andromeda knew without a doubt that something was growing inside of her.

The night of her violation hadn’t drifted far from memory or reality but she could tell it wouldn’t be the only time she found herself beneath the other wolf. She knew too that whatever magic had been laced across Hermione, whatever her transfiguration was meant to allow, it had taken root. That feeling of being  _ full _ and  _ stretched _ was hard for her to forget and everpresent in the forebrain of the wolf. It made its wishes clear and howled for it again, craved it and made all Andromeda’s dreams into nightmares where she could only watch and rage with displeasure.

This nightmare was recurring now. Every single night -  ** _every_ ** _ night _ \- she would find herself trapped deep within the body of her beast. She could feel the fur that covered it, the slick heat that pulsed from coiled muscles and the sensation of striding without pause across vast distances. Every night she would watch from behind its eyes as the bloodlust was sated by fresh meat and strangling tears. 

She knew intimately what it sought out whenever it opened up a fresh victim, what tasted the best and would calm her growling stomach. She could  _ feel _ as it crushed bone and flesh between daggerlike teeth, had memorized the sensation of her claws slicing through fat and thin armour to reveal the morsels trapped within.

She could taste the iron that dripped from her slavering lips and she would  _ howl _ to the Moon in pleasure and contentment. 

She hated the nightmares. Hated them  _ hated them  _ ** _hated them._ ** Hated that when she awoke the past few mornings her first wish was to go back to them. 

Hermione would be waiting for her. Lucid and awake, a toothy grin spread across her face while a hand caressed Andromeda’s chest. Palm spread across her navel, fingers tickling the skin above the parasite. She would lick away Andromeda’s frightened tears and nuzzle closely into the crook of her neck, a constant source of heat and unbidden affection. Her fingers had become experts at weaving through the coarse knots and tangles of Andromeda’s hair, would cap it off with gentle scratches behind her ears as if she were some common bitch.

It was humiliating. It was revolting, and for some much darker aspect of her mind -  _ her wolf _ \- it was delightful. For some darker aspect of  _ her, _ it was desired. It was just so damnably comforting, and she hated it.

Hated the fear that one day she would love it.

\---

nymph wasn’t quite sure that she understood what was happening

that wriggling little portion of what nymph  _ had _ been was angry with nymph and she just couldn’t understand  _ why _

things were better now, nymph was sure of it, just as sure as she could be about anything at all in fact

but that  _ thing _ wasn’t happy and it screamed at nymph when she would sleep and screamed whenever nymph was complacent beneath Mistress’s hands or Alpha’s hold, it  _ raged _ at every thought but mostly it just screamed

cried 

battered against her head until it  _ hurt _

the thing inside her wouldn’t make pretty noises like nymph’s howling

it wasn’t a pretty thing, wasn’t beautiful like all her newest pack-mate

angry, _angry,_ **_angry_**

but nymph  _ wasn’t _ angry, nymph swore it up and down, scraped her belly against the floor, bowed and pleaded in as best a way as she knew how

exposed her flank and neck and proclaimed that she was  _ not _ angry

on the contrary, nymph was happy

ecstatic even despite the fact that she lacked the words to properly say so

things were different now but she wasn’t at all concerned with that, couldn’t be really

nymph had been different once, she remembered it at the furthest reaches of her memory but she knew she had changed and that it was for the better

her pack-mate didn’t believe that though, she even ignored the growing  _ something _ that made her smell sweet and delicious

nymph could taste it in the air, could savour it when she licked her pack-mate’s skin, could smell it whenever she curled against the new addition in the dead of night, could feel the pulsing heat

nymph knew enough to lave attention upon her pack-mate even when she howled, even when she pushed her away

nymph knew that something was coming, even if she didn’t truly know  _ what _

\---

Hermione knelt by Bellatrix’s side with as much poise and grace as she could muster. The movement was a harder task than she remembered, hampered as she was by the  _ thing _ between her legs and Bellatrix’s smug grin. The damnable witch hadn’t removed the transfiguration after her session with Andromeda and if the looks she kept getting when she was buried up to the hilt were anything to go by then it seemed the item would stay just a tad bit longer.

Hermione had  _ known _ just how lovingly depraved her so-called Mistress was but every now and then she still managed to surprise her. Of course her latest surprise would be a transfigured bit of flesh and styling that matched her inner beast, a false howl from a human throat when she was perched between Bellatrix’s legs.

But that wasn’t the only thing causing her discomfort. No, that which truly set her on edge was just how different this dinner-and-a-meeting were. The Manor was full up, the table just as well, and Hermione hadn’t been able to scent it at all when she made her way up to the main house from the kennels. 

Which meant they apparated directly indoors -  _ the upper echelon _ \- or they had Floo’d -  _ the rabble-rousers who didn’t head a particular department _ \- or even arrived by broom. None of them had walked up the front gates and none of them had followed the green path.

That was odd.

Unexpected, and in these trying times Hermione had made it her mission to prepare and expect just about anything. She could count on what was expected,  _ did _ count on it to see her through.

She  _ expected _ that Bellatrix would visit them each morning and on Wednesday she would steal nymph away to warm her bed. She  _ expected _ that she herself would have the privilege of that station on Thursday’s through Monday, and she  _ expected _ that Andromeda would only receive it on Tuesday. 

Hermione had come to expect that they would always eat together as a pack, would train as one as well. She expected that nymph would do everything that expected of  _ her, _ and she expected Andromeda to fight it every step of the way.

The woman was strongwilled to a fault and it had taken Hermione who knew how many arguments and untold hours of cunning speech to keep Bellatrix from destroying her on the spot. 

Eventually Bellatrix wouldn’t listen to her and while that problem had been solved for now Hermione could only hope that Andromeda would learn her place. If not she would beat her into submission and show off her place as leader of their pack, but she still hoped it wouldn’t come to that. 

Besides, she had expected this little moment of breathing room and used it to congratulate herself on the scheme. Careful congratulations at least, seeing as she couldn’t yet be sure that her final plans would bear any fruit.

But now it was upset. Unbalanced from everything here being so very unexpected.

Hermione stretched a lazy grin across her face when Bellatrix draped an arm across her shoulders to scratch  _ just so _ against the backside of her ear. The motion continued until a bit of pain invaded, nails incessant in their attentions but still perfect enough that Hermione could lean into the affection and whine when it was finally taken away. She too rarely received any attention at these meetings anymore and she had been expecting Bellatrix to keep that inattention going.

But she hadn’t. 

Again, unexpected. But for an unexpected meeting, she would take it. The scratches  _ were _ nice after all, and while she would much rather have something that was rapidly hardening given some attention she would take what she could get.

Her body relaxed against her better judgement as the dinner began in earnest. Her ears drooped, the slow tremor that had been striding down her spine collapsed back into steady motions and her mind slowed to appreciate the calm. Her mind regained the sound of their voices and movements while she busied herself with scratching at the flat of her nose, popping joints and dragging claw marks down her chest as the words around her grew boring and less informative.

Such a large gathering for something so inconsequential as troop movements was odd through and through. With every word that passed above the table, she began to doubt their reasons for attending. It just didn’t make sense to her but they were all so calm about it-

Hermione blanched. Growled lowly in her throat.

She could scent it now. Fear-marked stink and a stench that wafted down from the ables above her, from the seats to her side. Barely concealed beneath fanciful colognes there ran the ripeness of  _ terror. _ Scented it mostly from the man at her side, the man who had decided his estate needed a flock of albino peacocks for pets.

Hermione idly reminded herself right then and there that she would need to take nymph out on a hunt before they slept. Hopefully they could leave with enough time to bury the birds somewhere he would find them, and preferably  _ before _ he went to sleep.

She wasn’t picky on it though. There were far more interesting things afoot than her needling pranks. 

That blatant smell of rotting onions and stale piss was beginning to win out as they all sweated where they sat. They were  _ all _ afraid, all of them except Bellatrix and Hermione knew that was more so due to the woman’s tenuous grasp on sanity than any sort of bravery or guile. Normal words were being spoken with shaking tongues. Plates and silverware rattled in their grip, chipped porcelain knocking against chipped porcelain with just a tad bit more force than they should have. Pairs of eyes that should have been following the standard routine of staredown, flirtation, and idle wandering were all moving too fast.

Faster.

All of them on edge and bleeding scent into the growing cacophony of the dining hall. But nothing happened even as she waited.

Hermione distracted her own slowly growing unease by pressing her cheek into the outside of Bellatrix’s thigh, her pleading eyes getting her nothing more than a flick on her nose and a pat on the head. She would not be handfed tonight, and for whatever particular reason that break in routine was the oddest thing she had experienced all afternoon.

Something was coming, and Hermione didn’t know what it was.


	10. A Monster's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another one bites the dust (or squeaky toy)

She wasn’t running so much as flying through the forest, sprinting around bends and twists that led through and around obstacles better suited to daytime hikes than nighttime missions. She hurled herself into the air off legs that were corded in muscle, hard as iron and tipped with slashing death. The battlements and old walls were so overgrown with ivy and other plant life that there was almost nothing to indicate that the Malfoy Estate had once expanded out this far.

Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

One more push, one more leap, one more second devoted to their task. The plan was simple -  _ mostly _ \- and efficient -  _ on the whole _ \- or something quite like it. Leave, arrive, come back.

Rally behind the banner of  _ fealty. _ Proclaim innocence, proclaim they were helping, proclaim that they -  _ above all others _ \- were loyal to  _ Her _ and  _ Her _ alone.

But plans were rarely simple in execution and this one was taking longer than intended. The woman wasn’t where Hermione had thought she would be. She was further out, farther away, lost somewhere amid the trees and green and darkness of moving clouds.

Visiting the site of Her own battles no doubt, and thus the pack crashed down upon Her amid a less than a well-preserved battlefield. The defenders who had once lived here had been torn to shred ages ago, blasted apart by shorter claws and angrier mouths that spoke strange tongues laced in magic considered  _ foul. _

The Pack was simply here to recreate the massacre, and that led into the next issue with their plan.

Their prey had not come alone.

One minute, two, a new last-stand that crumpled and broke as its defenders were torn to shreds beneath maddened claws, starving teeth. The cruelty they visited upon them was devastating. None would survive this night and with minute effort Hermione memorized where each one fell in preparation for cleaning them up when all was said and done. She drew blood with her mates, snapped her maw around legs, arms, and spit splinters from their lacking tools.

Their might was bolstered by the blessing of the Moon and their rage would not be denied.

Lucius died last.

She hated him more than the moments of his cruelty could explain, hated that he would dare lay hands upon one she considered to be her own -  _ whether She was yet or not did not factor into her decisions, an overpowering  _ ** _claim_ ** _ stoked her fire ever higher _ \- and mark her with that scent. Bellatrix had taught her cruelty and ownership; Andromeda was hers, carrying her pup and lagging just slightly behind; Nymphadora was hers, wiped clean from her own mind built back up as Bellatrix had desired.

Narcissa would be next.

Andromeda agreed with that. Whispered against her neck a desire for revenge that had outweighed Hermione’s fevered desire for  _ more. _ She had known the woman was a Black by birth, had been born amid madness and power. 

But she hadn’t known just how deep that family had sunk its claws into the woman and found herself delighted by the surprise of it all.

Nymph didn’t care. She couldn’t remember all of the beginning, only Hermione and Andromeda and Mistress. Nymph didn’t want to care, couldn’t care, wanted blood and love and the press of  _ family _ against her flank as she slept and dreamed of better meadows to roam and play in.

Pack was Pack, and a bastard sister was Pack regardless of her undiluted blood. Pack was laying by Hermione’s side during the daytime, wandering from room to room in the Manor where everyone human would look at her with fear, would bend and walk away with haste that was undisguised.

They feared her, respected her, wanted nothing to do with her and it was so,  _ so _ much fun.

Pack was Andromeda cursing at Hermione for all that she had done while still forcing herself to be near, to be groomed, to hold and be held in return. It was the churning blackness of the night and desire that blossomed into  _ need. _

Pack was Mate, was Family, was  _ Love _ no matter how twisted it all was -  _ or from where it had sprung, much like the blasted bit of anatomy that Bellatrix had  _ ** _still_ ** _ not removed _ \- or how much blood they swallowed.

So here they all were, the three of them hunting and fighting their way through the outer grounds of the Malfoy Estate on a mission to bring their broken little circle just a bit closer to completion. Speeding around the dropped corpses, climbing trees and breaking through the undergrowth with effortless grace and talent. Or a lack thereof, in Andromeda’s case. 

Her beleaguered form followed at the rear with mighty strides that were burdened by the stone within her belly. Hermione waited, helped her, moved with her and made sure that Nymph did so as well.

They were Pack, and Pack hunted as one.

When they finally reached their rendezvous -  _ the aim of their game, the point from which to flush their prey into the open _ \- there was nothing to do except wait for Her to arrive. Hermione licked the blood from her claws, her body, from her Mates as well as she waited and waited for more fun to start up. She existed quietly within the confines of the forest and kept her breath and beating heart to a minimum of activity. The fun of the past hour would be increased tenfold when the prey arrived and while she accepted Nymph’s need to be marked and doted upon she swatted the wolf away when it became clear she was wanting for more.

Hermione had no time for that, no matter how desirable it was and if  _ she _ had no time for it then neither did the others.

Nymph understood the message of a claw slicing her jowls, whimpering and bowing in submission before tending to Andromeda with single-minded care. Long claws massaged the older wolf’s sides, teeth nipping and pulling gently at fur. Andromeda would growl or whine when attention was too focused -  _ or, as was more the case, unfocused _ \- and Nymph would respond as quickly as she could to satiate the elder.

A contented rumble settled in all their chests, not a purr but not a nothing either. It was something expressing a broken sort of love and interrupted only when the sound of crashing branches and breaking twigs met their attention.

As one they tracked the gleam of silver hair beneath potent moonlight. A body was weaving and ducking beneath branches, delicate trees and loose stumps that had been smashed and broken who knew how many years ago by long-dead serfs indebted to the Malfoy’s.

She didn’t care about the forest, as she watched Narcissa approach. Neither did Andromeda, nor Nymph. Why would they care? Prey was here, not there, and it was far more interesting than understanding just how large and powerful the Malfoy clan had once been.

Hermione delicately motioned for the game to begin. 

Nymph nodded once and  _ howled, _ her voice ringing through the forest as she shot off to the left in an effort to flush Narcissa from her winding path and onto the thin trail that traversed this land. Hermione watched as the woman froze, looked around, pulled her wand from some hidden holster and scanned for wherever the sound had come from.

Narcissa lasted a second before whatever courage she held within her was exhausted.

Andromeda followed instruction and sped off to the right, full of howls and noise that pushed Narcissa to the left of the trail and off into the woods again. The older wolf was ready and followed her every move. Andromeda might have been angry, willing to take out her aggression and fight back against one who had wronged her so.

But she held true and stuck with Hermione’s plan.

Hermione stretched and watched the ensuing mayhem, a smile pulling itself across her glossy lips as steaming pants escaped her maw. Her eyes -  _ poisonous, yellow, cracked and eager _ \- tracked Narcissa’s every move and when the time was right she shifted. The blanket of fur began to recede as her back regained the ramrod form of a normal biped. Her claws retracted -  _ still sharp, still ready _ \- and muscle mass deflated until once more she was as close to human as she could ever come again.

Potent. Aggressive. Ready and willing to finish this out.

She moved.

\---

Narcissa had never once been more terrified in her life. Not even when the Dark Lord had taken residence within her home, not even when Bellatrix pulled out that blasted dagger and held it to her throat.

She was just about lost to her fear and only able to continue on pure adrenaline.  _ They _ were coming for her, large and dangerous and so much faster than she was. She would never outrun them.

Couldn’t.

So that begged the question;  _ why were they letting her? _

Enlightenment came too late. “No!” she screamed, turning away as much as she could and leg bending awkwardly within the vice of two logs until it  _ snapped _ and sent her sprawling. The trap was sprung and in the ensuing panic she lost all sight of what she was.

A witch no more, nothing at all other than a terrified woman seeing madness in yellow eyes.

A shaggy form burst upon her and swiped deadly claws before her face, centimetres from her eyes and stinging her with the air that buffeted her face. A split second managed to pass before she recognized those claws, those eyes. She turned and recognized the silver fur and the way it seemed to shift beneath the light of the moon from silver to black, black to red, once more melding to a silver colour that was uniform all over except splotchy patches of what could only be blood.

She turned and beheld another, though this one remained one shade and seemed -  _ from her limited human perspective _ \- to be far, far angrier.

“Andromeda! Andromeda, stop it this instant or your child dies!” she threw out her hand as she spoke, wand shaking but steady as it levelled with Nymphadora’s chest. Nymph, in turn, stilled where she was and stared on with gaping jaws and tongue lolling to the side. “Not one step further!”

“Sorry Cissa, but we’re not going to be stopping anytime soon.” A voice called out to her from behind, hidden and shrouded beneath the cover of darkness. Narcissa turned towards it as much as she could, ignoring the massive pain in her leg as the tone of the words hit home. She recognized it despite not having heard it in months, recognized the harshness of its consonants and the way it spoke around a tongue that was too thick and long to form proper human words.

That voice had been practised, still so broken yet so much more refined than the last time she had heard it. The ease with which she spoke was unnatural and jarring as Narcissa realized -  _ unfortunately, and to no relief _ \- that this situation had been engineered who knew how long ago.

Her wand levelled with the approaching figure of Hermione and nearly fell when she realized what she was seeing.

Hermione was human, or as close as she came these days. She still looked wolfish; her ears were too thick and pointed, her fangs peeking above lips and her gait unsure of itself as she stumbled forward on limbs that weren’t used to being ungainly proportioned. It was a form Narcissa had seen only once before under the light of the moon as Fenrir led his pack. 

Once again Narcissa found herself cursing the dead wolf.

Green lightning left her wand with record speed, hatred so great that she managed to cast it wordlessly and effortlessly. She wanted her target dead and watched with veiled amusement as it shot forward into-

-into where Hermione  _ had _ been standing. The girl -  _ woman, witch, wolf, what-the-fuck-ever _ \- leaped off to the side and avoided it entirely. The wolves to her side closed in while Narcissa found herself impersonating a fish drowning on air. Hermione pushed forward, somewhat hunched and shivering with a feral sort of power that was -  _ incredibly and terrifyingly enough _ \- growling with delight.

Narcissa broke. Her body lurched to the side and somehow crawled back onto her feet, flinging spells wildly behind herself as she limped towards some uncertain location. She didn’t bother with figuring out whether she landed any shots. There was no reason to do so. Either her wild aim would find its mark or she would lose herself to these terrors. Her only option was to keep moving and with grating teeth she cursed the patchwork quilt of enchantments that were laid across the Estate.

_ Anti-Apparition, Anti-Fiendfyre, Anti-Tracking, Anti-Fucking-Everything. _

All of these were so very useful in defending from sudden attack but all so useless in allowing her an escape. There was no hope if the fighting started from within.

The burn of spellfire pierced all the way through her shoulder before she recognized it for what it was. There was a pain -  _ sharp and hot and so full of pressure _ \- and then nothing as adrenaline covered up the wound with a blanket of cold weight. She was too heavy now, too lopsided. 

She tilted. Lost balance, fell off to the right and slammed her injured shoulder into a tree.

The pain hit her all at once. Narcissa fell and rolled onto the ground as she fought tooth and nail to avoid blacking out from the tremendous shock, a hiss of air through her teeth the only proof she was still conscious. She hissed and twisted until all the breath inside her lungs was gone, drawing in afterwards a rattling breath that laced her chest and sides with -  _ unbelievably _ \- more pain.

“Come now Narcissa, it’s best not to run around blindly through the forest.” Hermione growled lowly, joined in by the others at her side before continuing, “There are monsters about, and it's best not to be caught, eh?”

A clawed paw pressed down onto her back and Narcissa  _ screamed. _

\---

When Bellatrix finally made her way down into the foyer of the Manor there was madness in her eyes and anger in her heart. She had felt the moment something  _ snapped _ between them, felt Narcissa fall off of that ever-present ledge that she had claimed within her heart.

Something had happened to her sister and the misshapen wolf of a Patronus that she received at the crack of dawn only said that  _ something _ had happened without explaining  _ what _ that  _ something _ was. Too little information, and left to her own devices Bellatrix had spun herself into a finely tuned rage.

Her pet monsters brought Narcissa back, Granger leading the pack with back straight and eyes forward while Andromeda looked demurely at the protruding truth of her predicament and Nymph prowled behind them, all pale skin and twitching movements that had no rhyme or reason. The form in Granger’s hold was bloody beyond belief, her clothes a shredded mess and evidence of her fighting clear as day.

Bellatrix lost herself to the red and let loose a punishment fit for a crime she could not yet name. She watched as Nymph crashed to the ground, whimpering and frightened. She laughed when Andromeda doubled over, spilling whatever she had eaten and begging for relief. She screamed when Hermione stood tall, her head tilted and eyes squeezed shut as the only evidence of her pain and torment.

And when she was done, when the others had ceased whimpering like little puppies, she strode forward and waited for an explanation. Waited for Granger to explain, to make sense of whatever had happened. Watched as the others knelt at her feet and shivered in anticipation of another lancing Crucio.

Granger answered her with a look. With yellow eyes and a body that just stood there, unwavering in her own intensity.

“Well then? What fucking happened!?” Bellatrix barked her questions and advanced further on the wolf-witch, a thin hand snaking out to grasp at auburn hair and pull the answer out of her.

Granger bowed and looked at the floor, “We were out hunting. Smelled different. Went looking, smelled Narcissa-”

_ Crack! _

The hand she struck Granger with was burning and pulsing, turning just as red as her pet’s pretty cheek.

_ “Mistress Narcissa,” _ Hermione corrected. “We found Mistress Narcissa on the ground. Someone tortured her. Ran a spell in her shoulder. Tore out her throat with  _ magic. _ We did what we did to heal her.”

Bellatrix frothed at the mouth, yanked out her wand and wordlessly ripped through Granger’s mind in an effort to detect any form of duplicity. Nothing.

She ran through Narcissa’s, weak and leaden as it was.

Nothing.

Andromeda.

Nothing.

Nymph.

Nothing.

All was as Granger said.

Granger peered at her with those eyes and spoke in harsh tones, “Hard to heal with no magic. Bleeding faster than we run. Was all we could do.”

Bellatrix stood there and absorbed the words, shook with rage and eventually -  _ after too long, far too long _ \- began to calm. She turned to watch her -  _ former _ \- sister as she began to struggle, her body a patchwork of spellfire half healed over and silver scars that ran red around the edges. She rolled the unconscious woman onto her back and saw with herself the ragged remains of a throat that had turned into twisting scars and evidence of intense violence.

No words would pass those lips again.


	11. Best Laid Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild edit, short chap. Moving the story towards the end.

The blond was - _ among many, many things _\- pissed off.

Hermione could read it in her body language, read it in her glares. She was monumentally _angry _and the love heaped upon her by the members of a too-tightly wound pack was confusing all that anger, bleeding it into a more mutable rage.

The witch had lost her voice, been cursed into a wolf. The scarring all along her throat was far too much damage for mere magic to overcome but her mind - _ sharp as ever _ \- was still intact. The enchantments that Hermione had pressed into her mind were strong enough that no one outside of _pack _could look in, but they were not so much as to wipe out who she was. Blue eyes swirling with hatred, burning orbs of cold-fire that Hermione _giggled _at.

It was just so very, very delicious.

The plan she had hatched was rather impromptu and uniquely suited to the night that it occurred. She’d seen no reason to alter what little they’d already prepared and just gone with it, innovating and improvising what new was thrown her way. Andromeda had wanted some small measure of vengeance on the family that had torn her apart, and Hermione was far too willing to give the mother of her pups exactly what she craved. Nymph had simply been happy to taste fresh blood, her mind far too absorbed into subservience to ignore a hunt.

And when Hermione had said, _ ‘Tonight,’ _ they struck.

Now Narcissa was beholden only to her, and the new law that Hermione was creating. Lucius torn apart - _ and oh how she remembered his taste, finery suiting his meat so well that she’d been in heaven when she tore him asunder _ \- and Bellatrix none the wiser. Or at least she _seemed _to be lacking in suspicion. Hermione knew not to put anything past the older witch, her Mistress was a tricky one and given to leaps in logic that Hermione could never match.

That was why - _ when the elves sought her out, used bells and faraway voices to catch her ear _ \- when the summons came she was not shocked at what was asked. She was dressed in finery - _ or as close as she could come, secondhand robes and a grey dress that complimented her yellow eyes _ \- and led outdoors to a portkey, led by Bellatrix’s hand to an audience with their Lord. 

What was shocking about the trip wasn’t that she went so much as that she had come back without enacting any of her deadman switches. No enchantments loosed by the stilling of her heart and no need to fight her way out from what had once been her home. She wasn’t stripped of her position or the title of attack dog, nor was she thrown to the packs that remained outside her Lord’s little fiefdom.

“Heel,” Bellatrix had ordered, and Hermione - _ just as obedient as she ever was _ \- had moved to stand beside her, one foot back and body bracing for the end.

But her Lord had sat upon his throne with as much grandeur as he could muster up, robes of thin black silk fluttering in a breeze and appearing more as ash and smoke than any physical fabric. His eyes were red and piercing, and Hermione held nothing back. She opened herself fully to his majesty and trusted in her myriad enchantments, her spells and countermeasures. 

Bellatrix let her wander the manor and _oh _what a library she had. So many fun little tomes, strange spells and wicked information.

He blinked, slowly, with the ponderous nature of a serpent deciding if it would devour the prey that had happened into its lair. He shifted through her memories, overturned some things and glared at others. Lingered on the things she’d done to maintain her pack, to build it into something strong. He approved - _ or so she thought _ \- and pulled back, the emptiness inside of her now crying out for another taste of that wicked power.

He spoke of the future and offered condolences for Bellatrix’s loss - _ looked at Hermione during that, the thin-lipped smile on his face so full of knowing deviance _ \- and promised Bellatrix the sureness of her position. The war had been won, the resistance was in shambles. It was to be a time of rejoicing, of celebration towards the harvest of their labour. He allowed Bellatrix the reverence she was due for playing a part in that.

Hermione too, though that was mostly a formality.

Her name was cleared and the acts she’d committed against him in her earlier years were stripped away from public record. Wiped clean, restored into something that was better than Mud despite not being half or pure. With that came a clear dismissal. Her services were no longer considered necessary, her pack would play no part at all in the administration going forward even as he granted amnesty to all wolves under his domain.

They were to be cast off, adrift, left for Bellatrix to maintain or destroy as she saw fit. Hermione was fine with that, it sped up her plans but ultimately couldn’t come close to derailing them.

Draco received his position as the Head of House Malfoy, inheritor of House Black. Hermione clapped politely, glanced at him when he was granted this boon. Turned away when she saw his eyes were filled with fear and horror.

He knew what had happened and understood his place. He’d never be an impediment to her aims and she thanked him - _ silently, with a wolfish grin and shining teeth _ \- at that.

When all was said and done Hermione found herself dragged off from the Hall, Bellatrix pulling her along by a hand and the witch vibrating with good cheer. There was nothing to dampen her mood and Hermione attempted - _ as best she was able _ \- to keep it that way.

Bellatrix’s good moods were fun. Bellatrix’s good moods often involved sex, or blood.

Sometimes both. 

Sometimes that mood actually involved sleeping with them, with her.

Hermione was quite used to Bellatrix’s intricacies and eccentricities. She was used to falling asleep across the length of the witch’s body and she was used to the burning in her heart whenever she did so.

The burn was some twisting mix of hatred and love. Hermione’s Mistress had been embedded in her soul and while the older woman’s desires would often run counter to her own she was still enamoured by the power her Mistress wielded. 

Hermione desired change and difference but she didn’t desire death. Or at least not Bellatrix’s.

\---

Hermione ran her tongue along the inside of Bellatrix’s thigh, followed up and over the curve of it and out onto scars that were decades old. She pushed, savoured, moved closer to Bellatrix’s centre. She lapped at the dew her efforts brought forth, her ministrations and growling need bringing sweetness to her lips. The witch brought a hand down, pet soft hair and tugged it sharply enough to let Hermione know exactly what she wanted. A soft bite, claws digging eagerly into the meat of Bellatrix’s stomach, and a tongue that was every bit as feral as it’s owner.

“More,” Bellatrix commanded her, pulling Hermione up until she was left to bite at the witch’s jaw. The little bit of magic between Hermione’s legs was rising, the length of it filling with a throbbing need that left Hermione panting - _ open-mouthed, spittle rolling down her tongue and Bellatrix roughly kissing her _ \- as she ground down on Bellatrix’s thigh. A high pitched whine was extracted from her throat as Bellatrix laughed, dark and husky, filled with her own desire.

Right now Hermione had a _ need _and Bellatrix had a _ want, _ and Hermione saw no reason to deny or deceive. She was being pleasured, rewarded for all her services and she’d lap up that attention for all that it was worth.

The anatomy that Bellatrix had given her was wrong, meant for something other than what the woman was but Hermione found a way to make it work. The length slid in, cloying heat compressed around her and Bellatrix hissing out some mixture of pleasure and pain. The woman clawed at Hermione’s neck, her back, tore ribbons of bright red across clean skin and bit harshly into the crook of her shoulder.

It wasn’t long until Hermione came, finished swiftly before watching the older woman fall off to sleep. She cleaned the mess she’d left with her tongue and buried her nose in the scent, feeling content with the fact that her pack would smell it too.

Hermione might have been scheming for her own desires but the part of her that acknowledged Bellatrix’s placement with the pack had also decided that the woman was _hers. _ She carried no small measure of affection, twisted as it was.

The others were asleep when Hermione arrived, Nymph curled around Andromeda’s sleeping form and a hand upon a swiftly growing belly, the life within it just beginning to lend smell to the older brunette. Nymph was possessive, maddeningly so, and the past few weeks had only made light of that fact.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to care. The pups were hers and Nymph was hers, it mattered not what Nymph considered her own.

But Narcissa was only lightly asleep, and Hermione watched with faint amusement as the newly turned wolf rose from slumber. She blinked, curled tightly into a ball and seemed to think that made her hidden.

But she couldn’t hide. 

Hermione wandered close, placed her cheek against Narcissa’s and calmed the now shivering wolf-witch with a loving tongue. She made Narcissa smell where she had been, rubbed her slanting nose and brow against her, marked pale skin with nails still coated in the vestiges of release.

Her plans would be accelerated now, Hermione knew it. The release from their Lord’s forces meant change was coming, coming quick, and Narcissa might not have known it but Hermione had a plan for her.

She had a plan for all of them, in the end.

Minutes passed slowly until Hermione fell asleep there, cuddling against a woman who hated what she desired and yet wanted it all the same.


	12. Climax

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No-edit

Broken bodies and broken bones. 

It was all that would await the morning sun.

They moved, swift and silent, trained and powerful. How could they not?

Andromeda knew that this would kill them all or give each what they deserved. There would be no room for mistakes, no option to go back and right their wrongs.

She hated all of this, hated that she was a part of it.

And yet another part of her _loved _it. Another part of her was gleeful at being unleashed, was happy, was howling with affection towards her pack.

A clawed hand moved to cradle the swell of her belly, the sharpened tips dragging red lines against skin rapidly fading to fur. 

Andromeda felt - _ not for the first time, not for the last _ \- a strange mixture of emotions. 

She hated the things growing inside of her, and yet she loved them. She hated the one who had put them there, and yet she loved her.

But at least Narcissa was with them now. At least she was present and participating, willing to follow along.

Andromeda didn’t know what she would have done without her sister. She didn’t know what she would do when she had the other, either. 

But that could be settled later.

For now there was only Narcissa, and Narcissa couldn’t talk. There was only Nymphadora, and Nymphadora had been wholly subjugated by Hermione’s will. Nymph was often as quiet as Narcissa but sometimes she would be vocal, her words carrying no meaning except the emotion that she imbued them with.

Nymph brought the strangest tears to her eyes, brought her some odd mixture of shame and lust. Desire and appreciation. Affection and rejection, a warring of her instincts against the knowledge that what they did was _wrong. _

But Nymph would protect her, always. Nymph would protect her pups, protect her siblings. She would protect them all if necessary, and Andromeda was thankful for that.

She scratched her arm and thought, scratched her neck, leaned over to nip at Narcissa white ear. She lost herself within the Wolf as their transformation completed. 

Far away a howl arose that brought the hairs along her back and neck into a standing pose, electric shivers racing down her spine. She responded, long and deep, ecstatic now that Hermione was allowing them some measure of release.

She took off at a jog that swiftly became a sprint. She dashed, heaved herself over logs and wood, broken piles of debris that littered the edges of their new home.

Bellatrix was up there in the Manor, Andromeda knew it. She knew that howl meant things were coming to a head, here, now. She knew it and she wanted blood.

She knew it and she wanted to watch as her sister was destroyed.

\---

Narcissa was floating between a horrid rage and inconsolable gratitude that threatened to make her actually _like _ Granger. The darker side of the woman had taken on the form of a wolf, and the magic pouring from her new Alpha had suffused Narcissa with an aversion shaped as need.

She _needed _ Hermione. She _wanted _ Hermione. There was _only _ Hermione and their pack, the placement at the head too much for anyone else to bear. Narcissa would gladly lick her slit, bite into the woman’s leg, draw forth blood that tasted _sweet. _

Narcissa’s voice was long gone but she found that she didn’t care that much. There was no way to repair the damage, and the bond between her and the pack had strengthened to overcome that barrier. She’d gotten a grip on the finer edges of her situation as fast as possible, even while shying away from acknowledging the flushing heat within her heart as _love. _

It didn’t stop her from pulling back, hiding away from Hermione whenever she thought the Alpha might hurt her. It didn’t stop her from releasing low growls of pleased affection whenever Hermione fucked her raw.

The one positive to that - _ besides the feeling of pleasure as she was used, a bitch in heat and nothing more _ \- was the lack of any pups. No matter how hard or how often Hermione tried to breed her there would be nothing released, no damage to her independence.

The same could not be said for Bellatrix, however. 

When Hermione howled she responded in kind and sprang up from her hiding place with a ruthless burst of energy. She made a beeline for the manor, took the easiest route up its easter fringe. She felt her claws dig down into mud and dirt, and her heart was _climbing _up within her chest as she pushed herself past the point of no return.

She desperately wanted to be there when it happened. She wanted to watch Bellatrix fall low, she wanted to know her pain and lap at the tears it would produce.

She sprinted the final hundred metres with no trouble at all, lost to the bloodlust and desire.

\---

she was fast

she needed to be faster, the fastest

Pack was behind her and flagging but she was supposed to be higher up, closer to the action

she pushed herself through pain and thought about all the wondrous things happening around her

there would be food, there would be blood, there would be pups

fate had interceded and given some portion of her mind back, some little sliver that kept her grounded more often than not

Alpha loved her

Alpha caressed her

Alpha whispered sweet nothings in her ear as she protected the rest of the pack

she wanted to protect, needed to protect, wanted to protect, had to protect, _ would _ protect

Pack would have more pus soon and she wanted everything in its place

Pack was _ hers, _ was Alpha’s, was _ theirs _

she ran, ran hard and fast until she thought her heart might explode, pounded up the stones and dirt and felt the door giveaway beneath her when she landed

\---

Hermione bit her.

Hermione had bloody _bitten her. _

Bellatrix stumbled on unsteady feet. She fell back, fell away from the Floo and out onto the floor with ash in her hair and murder in her eyes.

It was never supposed to go like this. She’d secured this home for them, her pets, a place that she could rule them from and maintain some semblance of power in the wider world. It wasn’t supposed to end like _this. _

“I should have killed you when Fenrir cocked it up,” she muttered, voice a mixture of high and low, lost amid the burning pain. Did the wolf even hear her? Bellatrix reasoned that she must have, her ears were twitching and an eerie smile invaded that toothy maw.

Bellatrix released her killswitch.

Hermione continued grinning. 

Bellatrix blanched, realised she’d been outwitted. Unlocked another spell, unmoored the words from within her mind. She felt the snap and sizzle of magic as it pulled away, spooled out. It would do what she needed, call forth her few retainers and set them on her aggressor.

Her rabid fucking _ wolf. _

This was a battlefield now. 

Not a home. 

This place would be a graveyard by morning.

And then the front door exploded.

\---

Hermione was alive like she hadn’t been in years.

Muscles were rolling steadily beneath her fur, bones strong and heavy, claws sharp. Her maw was a heap of glittering daggers, and her tongue was dripping red heat.

The air in her lungs stank of blood and iron, rot and death. The howl from her throat was a crescendo, a sign.

Everything had gone according to plan.

Bellatrix had been fully released from His service. The pack was now free to do as they pleased, each of them forgiven of past crimes and He was no longer willing - _ or wanting _ \- to intercede on their behalf. Their part in this war had been played, this freedom and manoeuvrability was their prize. 

Bellatrix made no move to truly free them from this servitude, they still wore her yoke and followed when she pulled away from Black Manor and headed towards an older estate.

One far away from friends or family.

In the eyes of the new laws they had all been made equal even if Bellatrix kept up with the insistence that she was above them. In the eyes of the new laws their little inter-family squabbles were petty - _ and really, what were they all except a big, fucked up family? _ \- and destined to be resolved only _within _the family.

They had the freedom to do this without retaliation. Who would press their claim?

They waited, let Bellatrix slide into complacency while Hermione worked on disabling charms, enchantments and traps. She leveraged all her weight and ensured that no one except those bare few who Bellatrix _truly _considered as friends would ever come to her in an hour of need.

The need had arrived.

The hatred bubbling within her throat was matched only by the fervency of her desire; collect the set, control them all, Bellatrix had led her to this moment and this would be the culmination of her cruelty.

A wolf was never tame, and Hermione still remembered the little girl with bushy hair and too-wide eyes.

_ ‘That girl is dead,’ _ she snarled, tore deep into the meat of Bellatrix’s shoulder.

_ ‘That girl was murdered,’ _ she howled, long claws ripping through the woman’s legs.

_ ‘That girl has been erased, devoured,’ _ she roared, swatting aside the puny spells that Bellatrix brought against her.

Vengeance was something tasting sweet, tasting as blood, and Hermione fell back when the door broke open to savour it.

Andromeda followed Nymph, fury in her eyes. Nymph was confused and lost, succumbing to her broken instincts as she floated on madness and acted on impulse. Narcissa was last but not least, her silver coat now covered in mud and bramble, a terrifying visage of purity bent wrong.

And then the fun began in earnest, and Hermione knew that she had won.

\---

Narcissa wasn’t used to battles or war. Even fights were lacking in her memory, an action doled out by others and not by her. She’d taken part in the finale that had clipped the Order’s wings but she hadn’t been on the frontlines, not like she was now. Around them there were beings popping into existence, some that she recognized as Bellatrix’s faithful entourage - _ the Carrow twins and Dolohov _ \- and others that she’d seen only once in passing. 

Others were a complete mystery to her.

Of course, the mystery of their identities didn’t really matter. Each of them were flinging spells as soon as they landed, each of them were trying their damndest to kill or control the massive wolves decimating their lines, and each of them were losing.

Narcissa lashed out, let the instinct of the Moon overtake her thoughts and then there was no Narcissa, no prim and proper House-Witch. She was just an enormous beast with blood on its mind and fangs that were driven to shred. A body collided with her - _ hard, halting _ \- and she swiped out at its face, bit down when a hand came up close to her jaws. Distantly she was aware of Bellatrix; her sister had been thrown harshly into a wall and nearly gone all the way through it, the plaster and moulding a heap of rubble beneath her.

Narcissa let her mind wander towards more important matters. Andromeda - _ the pups, she needed to protect the pups _ \- was fighting what looked to be Alecto Carrow but might have been her brother. Andromeda was holding her own - _ the pups, she _**_needed_ **_to protect them _ \- but pulling back, dark hexes exploding off her fur and a green bolt fizzling out when it smashed against her sternum. Narcissa lunged towards the figure who had unleashed that spell, bit down on their leg and hauled them back. She twisted, shook her head, could feel the bones shattering in her jaws and felt elation at the blood that spilled down her throat.

A swipe of her paw ended that fight.

She roared into the cacophony, the crash of magic and screams of terror a welcome sound as she added to it with her howls.

\---

Hermione shifted, rolled and pulled herself back into something that more resembled a human than a wolf even while bits remained. The Moon had granted her this power, and now Fenrir’s mistake was her boon.

The fighting was dying off. The dead were all dead and the living would be swiftly joining them, and Hermione had better things to attend to. The pack would end those remaining; Narcissa with her discovered rage, Andromeda with her simmering fury, and Nymph with her delight in wicked madness.

Bellatrix needed to be dealt with and Hermione would be damned if she fucked up and let the woman simply expire.

Hermione moved through the hole in the wall and found Bellatrix crawling on her stomach towards another room, another fireplace. The wounds on her body were scarring over slowly and turning silver as the curse took hold. It was strong and ancient magic, but even so it couldn’t heal all the damage she’d been dealt. Hermione kneeled by her side and flicked her wrist, setting about with healing all she could while underneath her skin Bellatrix finally began to _stretch. _

Bones were beginning to crack and shift, the healing touch of Hermione’s magic setting them unevenly as they attempted to jut and joust. They were vying to be the first to turn but none of them were doing it well enough to let it happen smoothly. Seconds passed by while Bellatrix groaned in pain, wept and screamed, Hermione continuing to patiently attend to her.

Until it was done. 

Until Bellatrix was whole.

Until Bellatrix began to _shift, _ pain erupting from a tortured throat.

Hermione watched with pleasure in her eyes as fur crept up from the skin, hands elongating and fingers stretching, feet arching and claws bursting from behind nails. The dress the woman had been wearing was soon enough reduced to shreds, her skin a scarred up mess of cream skin and soft fur. The colour matched Bellatrix’s last name and the texture was quite shaggy, an imitation or a holdover from her curly hair that left Hermione humming in pleasure. She moved in front of Bellatrix, held her tightly by the cheeks and felt as the face beneath her palms pushed out, crinkling beads of bone solidifying into a snout. She reached back past Bellatrix’s torso, helped to steady the wavering body and rolled her onto her side.

Hermione remembered this feeling, remembered the first moment that it all came down around her, the Moon reaching out to touch her soul.

The magic between her legs was rising to attention, her body urged forwards by instincts rather than desire.

Hermione felt a burning _need _to claim Bellatrix, she needed to make the wolf understand where it lay inside this new hierarchy. 

Hermione shifted into a more lupine form, rolled behind Bellatrix and bit down roughly into the skin of her neck. She clamped down with tooth and claw until the howling beast beneath her could no longer move, couldn’t escape, could do nothing at all as Hermione roughly entered her, the whimpers and protestations urging her to move faster.

They had done this so many times when Bellatrix was just a human, and for a brief moment Hermione wondered just how _different _it must feel, how much _better _it must be for her to finally have the anatomy that Hermione was designed for. She could properly receive, properly appreciate it. She pushed herself against that wet heat and felt the wolf settle down around her, a pressure of desire that burned molten hot with slickness, no effort at all to pick up a harsher pace.

She growled lowly when Bellatrix tried to buck her off, shifted her hips down and pressed until the burgeoning knot at the base of her cock was bumping hard against the werewolf’s clit. She pressed forward with that momentum, slid out and then back in again. The pace ratcheted up again and Hermione fell deep into her rut, nothing but heat and wetness around her and a puddle slowly dripping to the ruined floor beneath them.

Distantly she noticed the arrival of her pack.

Nymph proved to be quite daring and leaned in to swipe her tongue against Hermione’s snout.

Andromeda was wary and leaning against a wall, one large hand - _ more a mockery of a paw _ \- cradling her abdomen as she looked on with silver eyes.

Narcissa remained quiet, moved close and supported her sister while watching Hermione work, her fur a menagerie of blood and pain.

Hermione finished swiftly after their arrival.

A final push had the widest part of her knot sliding forward, the organ compressed and passing the point where pleasure turned to pain. Hermione came, locked herself into Bellatrix and released the hold she’d had on the new wolf’s neck.

She howled and the pack joined in, sang and sang until it was all that they could hear, all that they could think of.

Hermione was spent with the effort and leaned forward to lay atop the shivering wolf, Bellatrix still giving off electrified yips of pain and satisfaction.

Hermione twitched inside of Bellatrix and licked at her newest mate’s snout. Nymph - _ being Nymph, and unable to control herself _ \- pushed forward. She licked Bellatrix’s snout, cleaned Hermione when she’d finished and then sat herself down in a curled up ball of fur beside them both.

With her energy depleted and the night now creeping long, Hermione slept, and soon the pack joined with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


	13. Monstrous Family; or, Family is Who You Choose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unedited

Hermione opened up the door to the rooms in the back of the dungeon with a screech of metal and un-oiled hinges. Her eyes were wide, and ears were swivelling as she waited on the sounds of angrily clinking chains, a monstrous voice, or perhaps a sworn curse or two.

When nothing assaulted her - _ neither sight nor sound _ \- she lit a blue-bell flame within cupped palms and ventured further into the darkness. The room around her slowly came to shape; the wall to her right made from ancient brick, slanted windows being the only way out and even those were barred with iron; the wall to her left was patterned with multiple eye-bolts for chains and their prisoners, and the multitude of them brought images of a battalion interred here forevermore. It was the wall in front of her that mattered though, and the sullen occupant sitting propped up against it.

Bellatrix was _haggard. _

Her initial bouts of rebellion had been hard to deal with, and the enforced stay within the dungeons after her latest attempt to usurp Hermione had become the longest. Her lustrous hair had become unkempt and liable to bouts of insanity; three months deep within the bowels of the manor had ended up leaving the woman just as bedraggled as she’d been upon that escape from Azkaban. Her lips were dried and parched, no longer covered over with lipstick or blood. Her eyes were pitiable and shallow, yellow and cracked where once they’d been silver and glowing. Even her arms hurt Hermione to look at; Bellatrix had been positioned so that her shoulders were pulled taut, her hands held above her head at an angle that Hermione knew _hurt. _ But she was awake, as evidenced by the side-to-side bobbing of her head as she waited, or thought.

Hermione didn’t quite know how much _thinking _ Bellatrix got up to, nowadays. Indeed, it was far less than when she’d been left to run the household. Hermione did, however, think that the woman wouldn’t entirely begrudge her that. It was quiet down here, and Bellatrix needn’t busy herself with the ongoing affairs of a family that she - _ proudly _ \- professed to hate, and loyalty that she felt strained with at most. Now all her days were simple, really, and after nearly two months of good behaviour, Hermione was here to finally set her free.

Freedom of a sort, at least. Liberty on the leash of a new master, a collar of molten silver that had been charmed and formed to be cold to the touch unless Bellatrix tried to stray. Hermione had run her own mutiny, she held onto no illusions about Bellatrix’s complacency. She wouldn’t deceive herself into thinking the dark witch would remain, would sit placidly in her grasp. Bellatrix would attempt to run the first moment that she could, and Hermione _desperately _wished to avoid any scenario where she would be forced to eviscerate the woman. After all, Bellatrix had been the one to heal Hermione back to some semblance of life after Greyback’s horrific attack, and she’d been the one to build a new family around them. She’d begrudgingly acquiesced to Hermione’s plans in abducting Andromeda and Nymphadora, and she’d not killed Narcissa when she’d been returned _different. _

It felt only fitting that Bellatrix remain around to see the fruits of her labour pay off.

“Now, now, why the grumpy face?” Hermione asked, her voice quite nasal and obstructed by the permanent disfigurement that Greybeard had gifted her. Being an Alpha meant she needed _some _things. Being _the _ Alpha meant that she needed _more. _ Mostly she needed to hold sway over whoever she came into contact with, so long as they were lycanthropes. She needed power to back up her claims, and magic to control their wild nature. She needed to hold onto the ancient curse that had gifted them all with little bits of magic ported over from wolf to man. Now her body merely described the role that she’d stepped into. Her nose was sloping, eyes a poisonous yellow, and her canines and tongue had allotted her some ferocity that the small, bookish-schoolchild that she’d once been had never held. There was also all the extra hair, but she couldn’t really complain about that.

She had no one to entertain, after all, now that the Dark Lord had cemented his claim to England. 

Bellatrix merely grumbled and looked up to her hands, bound up, and then back to Hermione as if that explained everything.

It did, in its own way.

“Come now,” Hermione said, twisting her hand to unlock the woman and slip a noose of magic around Bellatrix’s neck. “Up, up.”

Gently she pulled Bellatrix to her feet, and their naked bodies pressed tightly together as Bellatrix tried, and then failed, to walk. It was a tender few moments before she was fit enough to actually leave the dungeon, and even then it was with Hermione supporting her. The magic that Hermione had laid about Bellatrix’s neck was solidified into something fluid, something hard, and the leash portion of it faded into nothingness as they progressed. 

When they finally made it to the corridor outside the collar had finalised into a similar amalgamation to the one that Hermione had once worn, and Bellatrix fingered it loosely as they walked up, and up.

The woman panted, gasped, made all her pains known as they pushed up, up into second and then the third floor of the manor. When they finally reached their destination, it seemed she was liable to pass out, and Hermione took pity on her once-tormentor-now-prize. A silent levitation pulled the woman off her feet, and Hermione opened the door to position her inside.

The bodies lying atop the mound of pillows shifted when they scented the newest member, murmuring growls of acceptance and desire filling the air. Nymph pushed away to make a spot and nudged Andromeda until she cradled her swelling stomach and moved as well. Narcissa watched with eager eyes as her sister was laid atop the velvet cushions, Bellatrix’s body sinking down on her side and eyes closing when the last of her energy failed her. Each of them, in turn, approached, scurrying on hands and knees as Hermione knelt behind Bellatrix and cradled her.

Soon, they slept, quiet and in hard-earned peace, the only disturbances being the soft kicking of pups within Andromeda, and their shared breath.

The world turned, and Hermione dreamt of her completed pack. Broken, and yet still whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what began as a weird set of chapters for me to explore style has finished. Thanks for reading
> 
> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


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